THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


AN  ACCOUNT 


ESCAPE  OF  Six  FEDERAL  SOLDIERS 


FROM  PRISON  AT  DANVILLE,  VA.: 


THEIR  TRAVELS  BY  NIGHT 


THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY  TO  THE  UNION  PICKETS 


AT  GAULEY  BRIDGE,  WEST  VIRGINIA, 


IN    THE    WINTER    OF    1863-64. 


W.  H.  NEWLIN, 

Lieutenant  Seventy-Third  Illinois  Vohmteers. 


CINCINNATI: 

WESTERN  METHODIST  BOOK  CONCERN  PRINT. 
1887. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  l&jo, 

BY  W.  H.  NEWLIN, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PREFACE. 


riHHE  account  contained  in  these  pages  was  first  written  in 
1866.  Its  publication  was  delayed  in  the  hope  that  we 
should  learn  something  of  our  two  comrades  who  were  left 
behind.  After  revising  and  abridging  it  somewhat,  it  is 
presented  to  the  reader  in  its  present  form.  We  were 
compelled  to  rely  on  memory  in  preserving  for  publication 
the  incidents  here  narrated,  as  while  on  our  trip  we  had 
neither  pencil  nor  paper.  That  reliance,  however,  was  not 
in  vain,  as  the  scenes  through  which  we  passed,  though 
here  poorly  portrayed,  are  of  a  character  not  easily  forgot- 
ten. They  are  indelibly  enstamped  on  the  memory,  and  it 
seems  each  year  as  it  passes  renders  the  recollection  of 
them  more  vivid  and  distinct.  It  is  not  needful  to  state 
the  motives  which  prompted  this  compilation.  Much  of  the 
same  character  has  been  written  and  published,  but  as*  this 
differs  in  one  essential  particular,  at  least,  from  all  that  has 
yet  appeared,  we  hope  that  fact  will  form  a  sufficient 
excuse  for  introducing  it  to  the  public. 

W.  H.  N. 


550112 


This  Narrative  DULY  AUTHENTICATED  by  SWORN  STATEMENTS  of 

Two  Comrades  who  were  on  the  Escape,  is  on 

file  in  Pension  Claim,  No.  352,023. 


After  Seventeen  Years 


From  all  the  information  ever  obtained  touching  the  fate  of  first 
comrade  left  behind,  the  reasonable  conclusion  is  that  he  PERISHED  at 
or  near  the  place  where  we  left  him,  his  remains  being  found  and  de- 
cently buried  near  Blue  Ridge  Mountain.  Whatever  his/afe  may  have 
been,  it  was  self  decreed.  His  reasons  for  preferring  to  be  left  alone 
were'  satisfactory  to  him,  and  were  not  all  disclosed  to  us.  One 
explanation  of  this  last  rather  singular  circumstance  may  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  the  comrade  was  an  Englishman,  and  had  been  in 
this  country  but  a  few  weeks  before  enlisting. 

How  much  we  should  like  to  see  the  old  "darky"  to  whom  we 
said,  "Put  your  ear  to  the  string-hole,"  and  on  his  compliance  with 
the  request  we  pronounced  the  word  "  Yankees."  (See  page  60.) 
"I'll  git  my  trowserloons  on." 

In  the  case  of  leaving  the  second  comrade,  as  described  on  pages 
72-76,  there  was  no  option  or  time  for  deliberation.  The  exigencies 
of  the  hour  compelled  a  separation.  Mr.  Tripp  succeeded  in  escap- 
ing the  notice  of  our  pursuers,  though  hid  in  their  immediate 
vicinity,  and  hearing  their  talk  enumerating  reasons  for  their  failure 
to  "take  us  in."  After  several  days  and  nights  of  wandering  and  hid- 
ing, and  of  varied  and  interesting  experience,  Mr.  Tripp  was  recap- 
tured, sent  to  Richmond,  kept  there  until  September,  1864,  was 
paroled,  exchanged,  and  discharged.  He  is  now  living  near  Bur- 
lington, Kansas. 

John  F.  Wood  died  June  20,  1864,  "of  wounds  received  in 
action."  Referring  to  this,  Sutherland,  in  a  letter  written  not  long 
since,  says:  "What  a  pity  Wood  had  to  die  so  soon  after  escaping 
prison.  But  he  might  have  died  a  slow  and  miserable  death  at 
Anderson  ville  had  he  not  escaped." 

Sutherland  is  living  in  Michigan,  near  Eagle  Station.  Smith 
resides  at  Dundee,  same  state.  Mr.  Smith  very  narrowly  escaped 
drowning  at  Craig's  Creek.  Mr.  Sutherland's  opportune  landing  on 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  rushing  stream  barely  in  time  to  extend  to 
Smith  a  helping  hand  is  all  that  saved  him.  In  addition  to  all 
others,  we  had  the  perils  by  "Bogus  Yankees"  to  encounter  or  avoid. 
We  risked  our  lives  to  save  them,  and  saving  them  we  risked  them 
again  and  again  for  our  country.  Having  been  captured  in  our 
third  battle,  by  escaping,  at  least  two  of  us,  added  to  the  three, 
thirteen  more.  But  all  this  was  better  than  Andersonville.  We 
migJit  have  been  numbered  among  the  MARTYRS  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  "  I  would  not  make  that  trip  again,"  said  Smith,  "  for  the 
whole  state  of  Michigan,"  adding  "unless  I  had  to." 

DANVILLE,  ILL.,  November  27,  1885.  W.  H.  N. 


INTRODUCTION. 


E  those  "stirring  times,"  during  the  late  war,  when  powder, 
nd  ball,  and  the  bayonet  were  the  orders  of  the  day,  an  escape 
from  prison  and  a*  secret,  hidden  march  through  the  Confeder- 
acy, was  accounted  an  exciting,  as  well  as  a  very  lucky  event. 
Even  at  this  day,  Accounts  of  such  are  not  stale,  but  possess  a 
thrilling  interest,  especially  to  those  who  participated  in  them 
and  to  their  friends.  Our  journey  over  mountain  and  valley, 
over  hill  and  dale,  and  across  rivers,  branches,  and  rivulets 
almost  innumerable,  was  accomplished  mostly  in  the  night  time. 

We  had  neither  map  nor  compass  to  guide  us.  The  north 
star  alone  served  us  in  shaping  our  course,  and  very  often  it  was 
concealed  by  ominous  clouds.  We  took  many  needless  steps,  and 
made  many  needless  and  weary  miles  in  consequence  of. lack  of 
knowledge  of  the  country  and  of  the  course  we  were  steering. 
Sometimes  the  desolate  hour  of  Winter's  midnight  found  us  far 
from  the  public  highway,  and  almost  inextricably  involved  in  the 
brush  and  tangled  mazes  of  the  forest.  At  such  times,  being 
almost  at  our  wit's  end,  we  would  try  to  advance  on  a  "bee 
line"  until  the  open  country  or  some  road  was  reached. 

At  one  time,  when  much  bewildered  in  the  shadowy  woods, 
in  night  time,  we  began  to  despair  of  success.  We  sat  down  to 
contemplate  our  condition  and  our  cheerless  prospect.  Had  an 
enemy  been  approaching  us  we  could  have  well-nigh  welcomed 
him,  so  he  brought  deliverance.  At  length  the  stillness  and 
thick  darkness  of  the  night  made  our  loneliness  oppressive, 

6 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

and  we  groped  on.  Soon  we  found  a  road,  and  realized  that  the 
"darkest  hour  is  just  before  day." 

Knoxville,  East  Tennessee,  was  the  point  at  which  we  first 
aimed,  but  on  nearing  the  line  of  the  East  Tennessee  and  Virginia 
Railroad  we  learned  Longstreet's  forces  were  in  Bull's  Gap.  We 
then  bore  northward. 

On  first  setting  out  on  our  trip  we  were  extremely  cautious. 
During  the  first  nights  and  days,  after  starting,  we  talked  only 
in  whispers.  We  passed  houses  with  the  utmost  care,  as  dogs 
were  at  almost  every  house,  and  their  acuteness  in  discovering 
our  presence  was  astonishing,  in  view  of  the  caution  we  exer- 
cised. Early  in  our  trip,  one  night  near  eleven  o'clock,  as  we 
were  nearing  a  house,  a  dog  barked  savagely  at  us.  Instantly 
the  front  door  opened,  and  by  the  light  of  a  fire  in  the  fire-place 
we  saw  a  woman  in  her  night  clothing,  watclifng  us  pass.  Late 
one  night,  after  midnight,  we  met  a  citizen  on  the  road.  He  was 
on  horseback,  moving  slowly  along.  He  gavS  the  road,  at  the 
same  time  checking  his  horse  slightly.  When  he  had  passed  by, 
the  way  he  made  his  horse  scamper  was  lively,  to  say  the  least. 
"He  must  be  after  the  doctor,  the  way  he  goes,"  observed  Trippe. 
"He  took  sick  mi'ty  sudden,"  rejoined  Wood.  "The  sight 
of  us  at  this  time  is  enough  to  make  him  sick,"  put  in  a  third. 
We  were  walking  in  Indian  file,  and  had  our  blankets  drawn 
loosely  over  our  shoulders  and  dragging  almost  on  the  ground. 
Doubtles^s  we  were  scary  looking  objects,  especially  as  Smith  had 
his  bed-quilt  hung  over  him.  Thinking  the  man  had  possibly 
gone  for  re-enforcements  with  which  to  "gobble"  us,  we  hurried 
forward. 

The  night  of  our  discovery  of  the  cavalry  horses,  being  much 
wearied,  and  feeling  we  were  going  to  be  "hard  pressed"  for 
food,  we  climbed  into  a  corn  field  to  hunt  for  corn  that  might 
have  been  left  on  the  stalks.  Each  of  our  party  followed  twc 
rows  across  the  field  and  two  back,  but  not  a  "nubbin"  could 
be  found.  Not  finding  a  grain  of  corn  on  two  dozen  rows,  and 
the  corn  blades  being  also  gone,  we  concluded,  as  Taylor  ob- 
served, "They  gather  their  nubbins  clean  in  the  Confederacy." 
"Yes,"  added  Wood,  "they  can't  hold  out  much  longer." 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

Another  night,  at  a  late  hour,  after  Taylor  and  Trippe  had 
fallen  by  the  way,  when  in  Craig  or  Alleghany  county,  we 
reached  a  point  where  the  road  we  were  traveling  crossed  a 
pike.  On  reaching  the  pike  we  halted,  and  a  disagreement  arose 
among  us  as  to  the  course  we  should  take.  We  quarreled, 
words  ran  high,  and  we  seemed  to  have  forgotten  our  safety 
depended  on  secrecy,  as  there  was  no  lack  of  emphasis  in  what 
we  had  to  say.  At  last  Sutherland  ended  the  dispute  by  saying 
to  me,  "  Let 's  go  on."  We  started  immediately,  leaving  Smith 
and  Wood  muttering.  For  more  than  an  hour  we  steadily  pur- 
sued our  course,  when,  discovering  it  was  nearly  day,  we  halted 
in  the  woods,  near  the  road  side,  to  see  if  our  comrades  were 
coming  up.  Soon  they  came  along  the  road,  and  one  of  them 
said,  "They'd  better  not  advance  too  far  without  support." 
"Yes,"  said  Sutherland,  "we  are  waiting  for  the  reserves  to 
come  up."  Soon  after  we  were  hid  for  the  day. 

The  Union  people,  the  hardy  mountaineers  of  Virginia,  or 
those  of  them  with  whom  we  came  in  contact,  rendered  us  valu- 
able assistance.  Without  their  aid,  indeed,  and  the  aid  of  the 
negroes,  we  could  hardly  have  escaped  through  the  almost  bar- 
ren country  of  the  enemy,  especially  in  the  inclement  season. 
We  have  heard  from  David  Hepler,  James  Huffman,  and  Mrs. 
Marm  since  the  war  closed.  In  a  letter  from  Hepler,  received  not 
long  since,  he  says:  "I  have  not  forgotten  the  time  I  came  to 
you  in  the  woods  and  found  you  all  asleep." 

We  copy  one  of  Huffman's  letters  in  part.  It  was  dated 
November  11,  1867 :  "  As  to  information  concerning  your  fellow- 
prisoner  that  was  lost  the  evening  you  came  to  my  house,  it 
was  not  the  Botetourt  Guards  that  fired  on  your  squad.  It 
was  the  furnace  company.  I  saw  a  lady,  living  near  the  furnace, 
who  saw  the  men  returning.  They  said  they  neither  killed  nor 
captured  any  of  your  squad.  As  to  Paxton,  he  is  living  yet; 
so  are  the  people  that  had  the  boy  hid  under  the  bed." 

Our  latest  information  respecting  Trippe  is  a  report  that  he 
was  recaptured,  taken  back,  and  shot  as  an  example.  Of  Tay- 
lor, nothing  has  ever  been  heard,  by  us  at  least,  and  our  painful 
conjecture  is  that  he  never  reached  the  lines.  Of  our  three 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

comrades  who  reached  the  lines,  Smith  and  Sutherland  are 
living  in  Michigan,  and  Wood  is  supposed  to  be  a  resident 
of  the  Key-stone  State.  Smith,  of  the  Fourth  Michigan  Cav- 
alry, was  present  at  the  capture  of  the  Confederate  President, 
Jefferson  Davis. 


A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 


OHAPTEE  I. 

CAPTURE — PRISON  AT  KICHMOND — AT  DANVILLE — SMALL-POX — HOSPITAL  AND  CONVA- 
LESCENT CAMP — WARD-MASTER  AND  NURSES— ESCAPE  PROM  THE  GUARDS — TRAIN  OP 
CARS— FOILED  AT  SEVEN-MILE  PERRY — NARROW  ESCAPE — HIDING  IN  CAROLINA- 
CROSSING  DAN  RIVER — SINGING  AND  DANCING — EATING  AT  MIDNIGHT — SABBATH  DAT 
RETREAT — PROVISION  EXHAUSTED — EFFORT  TO  PROCURE  SUPPLIES — ITS  FAILURE- 
HARD  MARCHING — HUNGER  AT  MIDNIGHT— HIDING  PLACE — WASHINGTON'S  BIRTH- 
DAT — SLEEP. 

THE  writer  hereof  was  among  the  prisoners  captured  by  the 
enemy  in  the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  Georgia,  September 
20,  1863.  Others  of  the  regiment  to  which  I  belonged  also  fell 
into  the  enemy's  hands.  As  we  had  served  together  through 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  a  soldier's  life  in  the  camp,  on  the  march, 
and  in  battle,  we  resolved  to  remain  together,  and  stand  by  each 
other  as  prisoners  as  long  as  circumstances  would  permit.  On 
the  day  after  the  battle,  September  21st,  we  were  placed  on 
board  the  cars  at  Tunnel  Hill,  and  sent  under  a  strong  guard, 
by  a  circuitous  route,  through  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas,  to 
Richmond,  Virginia.  We  arrived  in  Richmond  on  September 
29th,  eight  days  having  been  occupied  in  the  transfer  of  pris- 
oners from  the  battle-field.  We  remained  in  Richmond  through 
the  month  of  October,  and  until  November  14,  1863,  when  we 
were  removed  to  Danville,  Virginia,  which  is  south-west  of  Rich- 
mond about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  in  Pittsylvania  county. 
The  transfer  was  by  rail,  and  each  member  of  our  squad  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  aboard  the  same  car.  Near  noon  of  Novembei 
15th  we  reached  Danville,  and  were  immediately  introduced  to 
our  new  quarters.  Our  squad  was  allotted  a  space  on  the  second 

9 


10  A   STORY  OF  THE   WAR. 

floor  of  Prison  No.  2,  a  large  frame  building,  where  it  remained 
unbroken  until  December  15,  1863. 

A  short  time  previous  to  this  date  the  small-pox  had  made 
its  appearance  among  the  prisoners.  On  December  14th  I  was 
taken  sick,  the  usual  symptoms  of  small-pox  appearing  in  my 
case;  and  on  the  15th  I  was  examined  by  the  Confederate  sur- 
geon and  sent  to  the  hospital,  in  company  with  three  other  pa- 
tients from  other  prisons  in  the  vicinity. 

As  I  here  separate  from  the  six  persons  with  whom  I  had 
been  associated  since  my  capture,  and  with  whom  so  much  dis- 
comfort and  inconvenience  and  so  many  privations  had  been 
borne,  I  here  give  their  names.  They  were  John  Hesser  and 
John  North,  of  Company  A,  Seventy-Third  Illinois  Infantry  Vol- 
unteers, and  James  Kilpatrick,  of  Company  B;  Enoch  P.  Brown, 
John  Thornton,  and  William  Ellis,  of  Company  C.  They  were 
all  of  the  same  regiment  with  myself,  and  the  three  last  named 
were  of  the  same  company.  The  two  first  named  and  myself 
were  all  of  our  squad  that  lived  through  the  term  of  imprison- 
ment. My  term,  however,  did  not  last  as  long  as  that  of  the 
others,  as  the  following  pages  will  show.  If  my  information  is 
correct  James  Kilpatrick  died  as  a  prisoner  under  parole  early 
in  1865,  at  Wilmington,  North  Carolina.  E.  P.  Brown  and  John 
Thornton  died  at  Andersonville,  Georgia,  in  September,  1864. 
Brown  died  on  the  first  anniversary  of  his  capture,  September 
20th,  and  Thornton  died  a  few  days  before.  William  Ellis  died 
at  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  near  the  close  of  the  year  1864. 
Hesser  and  North  were  among  the  last  of  the  Andersonville  pris- 
oners that  were  exchanged  and  sent  North. 

On  arriving  at  the  small-pox  hospital  I  was  placed  on  a  bunk 
in  Ward  No.  1.  I  kept  in-doors  for  the  space  of  five  or  six  days, 
at  the  end  of  which  time  I  was  classed  among  the  convalescents. 
On  or  about  December  22d,  three  convalescents,  of  whom  I  was 
one,  accompanied  by  only  one  guard,  went  into  the  woods  on  the 
right  bank  of  Dan  Eiver,  in  quest  of  persimmons.  We  went  some 
distance  into  the  country,  probably  four  miles,  and  secured  a 
quantity  of  persimmons,  which  we  distributed  to  the  patients  in 
Ward  No.  1  on  our  return  to  it  in  the  evening.  While  out  on 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  11 

this  ramble  through  the  woods,  guarded  by  only  one  person,  I 
was  favorably  impressed  with  the  notion  of  attempting  an  escape 
from  the  Confederates  at  some  future  time,  when  strength  would 
permit.  The  idea  was  suggested  to  my  mind  by  the  carelessness 
of  the  guard,  who  more  than  once  set  his  gun  against  trees  and 
wandered  some  distance  from  it. 

About  Christmas  a  row  of  eight  wall  tents  was  put  up  on  the 
hospital  grounds,  to  be  used  as  quarters  for  convalescents.  I  was 
one  of  eight  persons  assigned  to  tent  No.  1,  and,  as  I  was  a  non- 
commissioned officer,  the  hospital  steward  placed  me  in  charge 
of  the  sixty-four  men  occupying  the  eight  tents.  It  is  needless 
to  recite  here  what  the  duties  were  that  belonged  to  my  position, 
but  I  discharged  them  as  faithfully  as  I  could,  so  as  to  keep  out 
of  the  prison-house  in  Danville  as  long  as  possible. 

Sometime  in  the  month  of  January,  1864,  the  nurses  in  each 
of  the  three  wards  of  the  hospital  escaped  from  the  guards,  and 
started  for  our  lines.  This  necessitated  another  detail  of  nurses 
for  the  wards,  and  the  detail  was  made  from  among  the  conva- 
lescents. The  hospital  steward  did  me  the  favor  to  appoint  me 
as  ward-master  of  Ward  No.  1,  giving  me  the  privilege  of  select- 
ing those  who  were  to  assist  me  as  nurses  in  the  ward.  I  selected 
those  with  whom  I  had  become  most  intimately  acquainted  as 
convalescents.  Lucien  B.  Smith,  of  Company  F,  Fourth  Michi- 
gan Cavalry;  William  Sutherland,  of  Company  H,  Sixteenth 
United  States  Infantry;  Watson  C.  Trippe,  of  Company  H,  Fif- 
teenth United  States  Infantry,  and  John  F.  Wood,  of  Company 
G,  Twenty-Sixth  Ohio  Infantry,  were  the  persons  selected.  After 
a  short  time,  Kobert  G.  Taylor,  of  Company  G,  Second  Massa- 
chusetts Cavalry,  was  added  to  our  force  of  nurses,  to  make  the 
burden  of  labor  in  the  ward  a  little  lighter  on  us.  We  attended 
the  patients  in  Ward  No.  1  day  after  day,  and  night  after  night, 
as  well  as  we  could  with  the  scanty  supplies  of  medicine  and 
food  furnished  by  the  Confederates,  until  the  night  of  February 
19,  1864.  Very  many  of  our  fellow-prisoners  came  under  our 
care  while  we  were  acting  the  part  of  nurses.  Many  of  them 
died,  and  we  saw  their  bodies  carted  away  to  the  burying- 
ground  and  deposited  in  their  last  earthly  resting  places. 


12  A   STORY   OP   THE   WAR. 

By  the  12th  of  February  the  small-pox  had  begun  to  abate. 
As  a  consequence,  the  convalescent  camp  and  Ward  No.  3  were 
discontinued.  A  day  or  two  later  and  Ward  No.  2  was  cleared 
of  patients  and  its  doors  closed.  Those  who  had  been  attend- 
ing as  nurses  were  returned  to  prison.  Two  weeks,  or  three  at 
most,  could  hardly  elapse  before  the  hospital  would  be  entirely 
broken  up.  In  this  event  we  should  be  returned  to  the  dreary 
prisons  in  Danville,  whence  escape  'was  scarcely  possible.  To  be 
kept  in  prison  many  months,  perhaps  until  death  alone  should 
bring  release,  was  an  unwelcome  prospect,  and  we  looked  upon 
it  with  feelings  of  dread.  We  had  friends  and  comrades  among 
the  prisoners,  whom  we  disliked  to  leave  behind  us,  but  as  our 
presence  with  them  could  do  neither  them  nor  us  any  good,  we 
determined  to  improve  the  first  opportunity  of  attempting  s,i\ 
escape  from  the  Confederates,  and  avoid  the  prison  entirely. 

February  19,  1864,  was  a  cool  day  for  lower  Virginia,  and 
we  would  have  deferred  our  escape  for  a  few  nights  had  we  not 
luckily  and  accidentally  ascertained  that  we  should  be  sent  im,o 
prison  on  the  morning  of  the  20th.  Our  careful,  though  hasty, 
preparations  for  slipping  off  from  the  guards  were  accordingly 
commenced  just  before  dark  on  the  evening  of  February  19th. 
Before  entering  upon  the  detailed  account  of  our  escape  and  sub- 
sequent trip  to  the  Union  lines,  it  will  be  requisite  to  describe 
briefly  the  hospital  buildings  and  surroundings. 

The  hospital  was  situated  one  mile  south-west  of  Danville,  en 
the  right  bank  of  Dan  Biver.  The  river  runs  in  a  north-east 
course,  consequently  the  hospital  was  on  the  south  of  it.  There 
were  three  wards  at  the  hospital,  each  capable  of  accommodating 
fifty  patients.  The  wards  were  numbered  one,  two,  and  three. 
There  were  also  a  cook-house,  a  steward's  office,  and  a  dead- 
house.  These  buildings  were  constructed  of  undressed  pine  lum- 
ber. Ward  No.  1  was  located  on  the  top  of  a  high  round  hill; 
near  its  south-east  corner,  and  almost  adjoining  it  was  the  cook- 
house. A  few  steps  north  of  the  ward,  and  equidistant  from  its 
eastern  and  western  extremities,  stood  the  steward's  office.  At 
the  west  end  of  the  ward  was  the  dead-house.  About  one  hun- 
dred yards  south-west  of  the  dead-house  Ward  No.  2  was  situ- 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  13 

ated,  on  the  hill-side.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  nearly  one  hundred 
yards  south-west  of  Ward  No.  2,  stood  Ward  No.  3.  Directly 
east  of  Ward  No.  2,  and  south  of  Ward  No.  1,  was  the  row  of 
tents  which  had  been  used  by  convalescents.  Still  farther  east, 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  was  a  considerable  branch,  coursing  its 
way  northward  to  Dan  River.  Just  across  the  branch,  on  its 
right  bank,  was  a  large  wall  tent,  in  and  near  which  all  the 
clothes  washing  for  the  hospital  was  done.  The  persons  detailed 
to  do  the  washing  slept  in  the  tent.  The  Confederate  surgeon 
in  charge  of  the  hospital  had  his  quarters  in  Tent  No.  1  of  the 
row  of  tents  formerly  occupied  by  convalescents.  His  tent  was 
nearest  the  cook-house  and  Ward  No.  1.  The  tent  we  occupied, 
when  not  on  duty  in  the  ward,  stood  just  south  of  the  surgeon's 
tent,  and  so  near  it  that  the  ropes  supporting  it  interlocked  or 
crossed  those  which  supported  the  surgeon's  tent.  In  Ward 
No.  1  was  the  receptacle  or  place  of  deposit  for  all  clothing  that 
had  been  washed.  Quite  a  lot  of  clothing,  belonging  in  part  to 
patients  in  the  different  wards,  but  mainly  to  the  unfortunate 
ones  who  had  died,  was  stored  away  for  the  use  and  benefit  of 
those  who  might  be  insufficiently  clothed.  Wards  No.  1  and  3 
hud  been  whitewashed,  but  Ward  No.  2,  which  had  been  put  up 
between  them,  at  a  subsequent  date,  was  not. 

Near  Ward  No.  3,  at  the  base  of  the  hill,  was  a  spring  of 
water,  from  which  the  hospital  was  supplied.  Between  the  wards 
and  other  hospital  buildings,  and  all  about  over  the  hill-sides, 
stood  tall  and  straight  pines.  To  the  north  of  the  hospital,  about 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  distant,  was  Dan  River,  with  its  swift, 
noisy  waters,  hedged  in  by  steep,  rugged  banks.  To  the  south- 
east and  south  were  cleared  lands,  traversed  by  a  branch  and  its 
tributaries.  Still  farther  south  were  heavy  woods,  with  one  poiuo 
of  timber  projecting  some  distance  northward,  into  the  cleared 
land  toward  the  hospital. 

During  the  afternoon  of  February  19th,  William  Sutherland 
and  myself  were  wheeling  wood  on  a  wheelbarrow  from  Ward 
No.  3  to  Ward  No.  1.  Having  to  wheel  it  up  hill  it  was  a 
wearisome  task,  and  we  occasionally  stopped  for  rest.  Near  four 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  while  resting  about  half-way  up  the  hill- 


14  A   STORY   OF   THE   WAE. 

side,  Sutherland  said  to  me,  "It  looks  to  me  very  much  as  if 
this  hospital  would  be  broken  up  soon."  I  agreed  with  him  in 
hi?  opinion,  and  remarked  that  our  lease  of  time  at  the  hospital 
was  growing  short.  After  a  little  further  conversation,  we  re- 
solved to  consult  with  the  other  nurses  on  the  propriety  of  at- 
tempting an  escape,  and  get  them  to  set  out  with  us  for  our 
lines  on  the  next  night. 

In  less  than  an  hour's  time  we  had  finished  our  task  of  wheel- 
ing wood,  and  were  resting  on  our  bunks  in  the  tent.  Before 
either  of  us  had  met  with  our  comrades,  Smith,  who  was  off 
duty  that  evening,  came  to  us  and  informed  us  he  had  something 
to  tell  us  that  we  would  not  like  to  hear.  We  told  him  to  ac- 
quaint us  with  his  news,  however  unwelcome  it  might  be.  We 
readily  conjectured  what  it  was  that  so  interested  Smith,  and 
our  conjecture  proved  correct.  He  had  overheard  some  of  the 
guards  in  their  talking,  and  had  learned  that  it  was  the  purpose 
of  the  Confederates  to  send  us  to  prison  in  the  morning.  This 
news  did  not  surprise  us,  and  we  were  heartily  pleased  to  learn 
the  intentions  of  the  Confederates,  although  they  were  not  of  an 
amicable  nature.  We  resolved  to  prevent,  if  possible,  the  carry- 
ing of  these  intentions  into  effect.  Smith  was  then  told  of  the 
resolution  we  had  formed  an  hour  before  to  set  out  on  the  next 
night  for  the  Union  lines.  The  sun  had  already  disappeared  be- 
hind the  hills.  We  knew  our  fate  if  we  remained  at  the  hos- 
pital until  its  light  should  again  break  forth  in  the  east.  Our 
purpose  to  attempt  at  least,  even  if  we  did  not  succeed,  to  leave 
the  hospital,  the  sick,  the  Confederate  guards,  and  the  Danville 
prisons  that  night  was  immediately  and  firmly  fixed. 

Our  preparations  were  at  once  commenced.  We  were  obliged 
to  exercise  the  utmost  caution  in  all  our  movements,  as  a  few 
of  the  guards  were  standing  about  over  the  hospital  grounds; 
some  of  ihem  were  in  the  cook-house.  We  wished  by  no  word, 
or  look,  or  act  of  ours,  to  lead  them  to  suspect  our  purpose  of 
eluding  them  and  striking  for  liberty. 

Smith  left  Sutherland  and  me  in  the  tent  and  joined  Trippe, 
Taylor,  and  Wood,  who  were  on  duty  in  the  ward.  Smith  soon 
found  an  opportunity  of  conferring  with  his  associates,  and  telling 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  15 

them  of  the  meditated  escape.  Taylor  and  Wood  were  anxious 
to  join  it,  but  Trippe,  who  had  but  recently  recovered  from  the 
small-pox,  was  distrustful  of  his  strength;  and  as  he  had  once 
before  escaped,  and  got  some  fifty  miles  away,  only  to  be  re- 
captured and  brought  back,  he  did  not  so  readily  sanction  the 
project.  The  nurses  who  were  on  duty  in  the  ward  now,  assisted 
by  Smith,  gave  their  exclusive  attention  to  the  sick;  they  were 
even  more  attentive  than  usual.  No  one  would  have  suspected 
from  their  conduct  that  they  would  ever  forsake  the  sick  ones 
under  their  care. 

Just  before  dark  Sutherland  suggested  the  propriety  of  de- 
termining on  a  place  of  rendezvous  for  our  party  after  the  guards 
were  passed,  as  it  was  certain  we  could  not  all  pass  out  at  once 
without  being  seen.  I  stepped  outside  the  tent,  and  walked 
leisurely  up  hill,  and  stood  near  the  south  end  of  the  cook-house. 
Directly  south  of  me,  about  a  mile  distant,  was  a  prominent 
point  of  timber,  projecting  northward  from  the  main  body  to- 
ward the  hospital.  This  point  of  timber  seemed  suitable  for  tfie 
purposes  of  a  rendezvous,  and  on  returning  to  the  tent  I  directed 
Sutherland's  attention  to  it.  He  concurred  with  me  as  to  the 
fitness  of  the  place  for  a  rendezvous,  and  went  to  the  ward  to 
call  the  attention  of  Smith,  Trippe,  Taylor,  and  Wood  to  it.,  As 
it  was  important  that  our  party  should  fix  in  the  mind  the  place 
of  rendezvous  before  it  was  too  dark  to  see,  those  who  were  en- 
gaged in  the  ward  came  out,  one  at  a  time,  and  glanced  across 
at  the  point  of  timber.  By  so  doing  misunderstanding  and  de- 
lay, at  the  critical  moment,  would  be  prevented.  While  Trippe 
was  out  taking  a  look  he  noticed  two  or  three  guards  approach- 
ing him.  He  walked  on  down  hill  in  the  direction  of  the  wash- 
house,  as  if  going  after  clean  bed-clothes  or  other  clothing  for 
patients. 

Near  eight  o'clock,  P.  M.,  Sutherland  sought  an  interview 
with  the  cook,  but  found  the  Rebels  had  not  yet  left  the  cook- 
house for  their  own  quarters;  so  he  quietly  withdrew  from  the 
room.  The  cook — who  of  course  was  one  of  our  own  men — fol- 
lowed him  to  the  door  and  asked  if  any  thing  was  wanted.  As 
the  Rebels  were  within  hearing,  Sutherland  answered,  "There  is 


16  A  STOEY   OF  THE   WAR. 

n  man  in  the  ward  who  would  like  to  have  a  little  soup,  but  I 
guess  he  can  get  along  without  it.  If  he  must  have  some,"  con- 
tinued Sutherland,  "I  will  come  back  and  let  you  know." 

"All  right,"  answered  the  cook. 

Soon  after  the  guards  went  to  their  quarters,  which  were  sit- 
uated near  the  guard  line,  but  little  more  than  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant,  south-west  of  the  cook-house.  The  cook  was  again 
sought  by  Sutherland,  and  this  time  he  was  found  alone,  and 
just  ready  to  retire  for  the  night.  Sutherland  lost  no  time  in 
making  his  business  known  to  him.  Six  haversacks,  the  best 
that  could  be  found  in  the  deposit  for  clean  clothing,  were  de- 
livered to  the  cook,  who  agreed  to  fill  them  with  the  best  pro- 
vision the  cook-house  at  the  time  afforded.  Sutherland  then 
busied  himself  in  selecting  clothing  for  our  party  from  the  de- 
posit of  clothing  that  had  been  washed  and  stored  away.  When 
he  had  selected  the  number  of  garments  required  he  carried 
them  down  to  our  tent.  He  and  I  then  took  off  the  clothing 
we  had  long  worn,  and  put  on  entirely  clean  suits.  We  then 
went  to  the  ward  and  relieved  our  four  associates,  who  immedi- 
ately went  down  to  our  tent  and  put  on  clean  suits  also.  The 
six  haversacks,  which  were  filled  with  the  best  provisions  the 
cook  could  provide,  were  brought  to  the  tent  from  the  cook- 
house. 

Near  eleven  o'clock,  P.  M.,  our  arrangements  for  leaving  were 
about  complete,  or  as  nearly  so  as  was  possible  with  the  means 
at  command.  Taylor,  Sutherland,  and  Wood,  each  had  an  over- 
coat and  blanket;  Smith  had  an  overcoat  and  a  large  bed-quilt. 
Trippe  and  I  each  had  a  blanket;* we  had  no  overcoats,  but  we 
wore  an  extra  shirt  and  blouse  apiece.  For  our  feet  we  provided 
the  best  shoes  that  could  be  found  about  the  hospital,  and  took 
pains  to  secure  long  and  strong  strings  for  them.  During  our 
attendance  in  the  ward,  patients  about  dying,  or  near  death,  had 
in  several  instances  presented  the  nurses  with  their  overcoats. 
These  overcoats  had  been  sold  by  the  nurses  to  the  guards  for 
Confederate  scrip.  In  this  way  we  had  obtained  near  two  hun- 
dred dollars  in  scrip  to  carry  with  us  on  our  journey.  Taylor 
had  a  watch  which  was  in  time-keeping  order.  He  also  had  a 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  17 

canteen.  Smith  had  a  half-moon  tin  bucket,  which  held  about 
three  quarts.  The  only  knives  we  had  were  made  of  sheet-iron. 

We  had  watched  in  the  ward,  and  perfected  our  arrangements 
for  leaving  by  turns,  until  near  midnight.  A  little  after  eleven 
o'clock  we  waked  up  two  or  three  of  the  stoutest  patients  in  the 
ward,  and  told  them  our  departure  was  near  at  hand,  and  that 
they  must  watch  in  the  ward  for  us,  and  keep  the  lights  burn- 
ing until  morning.  We  then  bid  them  good-by,  cast  a  last 
glance  over  the  sick,  and  closed  the  door  of  the  ward  behind  us 
for  the  last  time.  We  repaired  immediately  to  our  tent  and  com- 
pleted our  final  preparations  for  the  trip. 

As  our  tent  was  near  that  of  the  Rebel  surgeon  we  wer-i* 
obliged  to  carry  on  our  conversation  in  a  low  tone.  We  put  oui: 
blankets  in  a  convenient  shape  for  carrying,  and  made  ever}- 
thing  ready  for  starting.  It  was  settled,  in  the  first  place,  that 
we  should  slip  out  from  the  hospital  grounds  two  at  a  time, 
Which  two  should  go  first  was  the  next  question  that  came  up 
for  decision.  Six  small  sticks  were  prepared,  and  we  drew  cuty. 
These  sticks  were  of  three  different  lengths,  and  the  two  who  held 
the  short  ones  were  to  pass  out  first.  The  two  who  held  the  stick  B 
next  shortest  were  to  follow  in  a  given  time,  and  the  two  holding 
the  longest  sticks,  in  due  time,  were  to  bring  up  the  rear.  When 
the  drawing  was  over  Sutherland  and  I  held  the  short  sticks. 

As  time  was  precious  we  placed  our  haversacks  and  blankets 
under  our  arms  and  stepped  outside  the  tent.  We  stood  a  mo- 
ment at  the  tent  door,  listening  for  the  voices  or  footsteps  of  the 
guards.  No  sound  fell  upon  our  ears  save  that  of  the  wind  blow- 
ing through  the  tops  of  the  tall  pine-trees.  On  starting  we  went 
to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  stopped  at  the  south-east  corner  of  the 
cook-house,  where  we  again  listened  intently,  but  heard  nothing. 
The  moon,  which  had  been  shining  .at  intervals  since  night-fall, 
had  become  partially  obscured  by  floating  vapor  clouds.  We 
kept  our  haversacks  and  blankets  under  our  arms  in  such  a  shape 
as  to  imitate  closely  a  bundle  of  clothing.  We  then  walked 
slowly  down  the  hill  toward  the  wash-house.  We  followed  the 
path  leading  to  the  wash-house  until  we  reached  the  branch, 
Instead  of  crossing  the  branch  on  the  foot-log  we  turned  to  our 


18  A   STORY   OF   THE   WAR. 

right  and  went  directly  up  stream,  stepping  sometimes  on  the  ic* 
and  breaking  it.  We  kept  close  to  the  bluff,  and  stooped  slightly, 
so  that  it  screened  us  from  the  west.  To  our  left,  on  the  east, 
of  the  branch,  was  a  flat  or  bottom,  covered  with  pine  shrubs  and 
other  bushes,  which  hid  us  from  view  in  that  direction.  Unless 
the  sentinel  on  duty  had  happened  to  be  near  the  branch  while 
we  were  passing,  we  could  scarcely  have  done  otherwise  than 
escape  unseen.  At  length  we  had  proceeded,  with  much  caution, 
a  sufficient  distance  in  the  direction  of  our  appointed  rendezvous 
to  feel  light-hearted  and  secure.  We  pushed  forward  rapidly, 
crossed  two  rail-fences  and  gained  the  shelter  of  the  woods,  where 
we  were  to  await  the  coming  of  Smith  and  Taylor,  who  had  held 
the  sticks  of  medium  length  at  the  drawing  a  few  moments  before. 
Sutherland  and  I  laid  our  haversacks  and  blankets  aside,  and 
quietly,  though  anxiously,  awaited  their  approach. 

While  waiting,  after  the  anxiety  and  excitement  of  the  moment 
had  somewhat  subsided,  we  found  the  weather  quite  cold.  Our 
whiskers  became  stiff  and  whitened  with  frost,  and  the  winds 
penetrated  our  clothing.  The  moon  shone  out  brightly.  The 
sky  was  without  a  cloud.  Those  which  had  partially  covered  it, 
only  a  few  moments  before,  had  cleared  entirely  away.  Our 
patience  was  severely  tried,  as  our  comrades,  so  anxiously  ex- 
pected, had  not  joined  us.  On  getting  quite  cold  in  the  breezes 
of  the  wintery  midnight,  we  danced  about  on  our  feet,  and  ex- 
tended our  arms  to  quicken  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  and  get 
ourselves  warm.  In  this  manner  we  passed  some  two  or  three 
minutes,  when  we  stood  still  to  listen  for  the  coming  of  Smith 
and  Taylor.  We  listened  anxiously,  but  the  sound  of  their  wel- 
come footsteps  did  not  greet  our  ears.  "Can  it  be  that  they 
have  been  caught?"  we  asked  ourselves. 

"  If  they  have  been  caught  the  Rebels  will  soon  miss  us,  and 
be  on  the  alert,  searching  for  us,"  said  Sutherland. 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  be  off  then,"  I  answered. 

We  listened  a  moment  longer,  but  heard  nothing.  We  then 
gathered  our  haversacks  and  blankets,  and  started  westward 
through  the  woods.  We  had  gone  but  a  few  steps  before  we 
heard  the  noise  of  persons  climbing  the  fence.  We  halted  and 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  19 

remained  perfectly  still,  as  we  were  not  sure  the  rebels  were  not 
on  our  trail.  Soon  we  could  distinguish  the  forms  of  two  persons 
in  the  moonlight.  They  were  moving  toward  the  point  of  tim- 
ber we  had  just  left.  We  now  knew  they  we1*e  Smith  and 
Taylor,  and  soon  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  our  names  called 
in  low,  subdued  tones  by  their  familiar  voices.  Our  whereabouts 
was  soon  made  known  to  them,  and  they  were  soon  with  us; 
Smith  and  Taylor  wished  to  know  why  we  had  not  stopped  in 
the  point  of  timber,  as  agreed  upon.  We  told  them  we  had 
stopped  there,  had  waited  some  time  for  them,  and  had  given 
them  up  as  lost,  and  then  started  on  our  journey  alone,  getting 
as  far  as  that  before  hearing  them. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait  for  Wood  and  Trippe.  They  had 
followed  Smith  and  Taylor  more  closely  than  the  latter  had  fol- 
lowed Sutherland  and  myself.  When  Trippe  and  Wood  had 
joined  us,  we  introduced  ourselves  as  Federals,  and  late  nurses 
at  the  small-pox  hospital  near  Danville,  Va.  As  the  squads  of 
two  each  had  formed  a  junction,  our  party  of  six  was  ready  to 
move. 

After  adjusting  our  haversacks  and  blankets  about  us,  so  that 
we  could  easily  carry  them,  we  set  out  through  the  woods  in  a 
westerly  direction.  In  the  woods  we  found  that  the  snow  which 
had  fallen  a  few  days  before  had  not  melted.  We  disliked  to 
walk  on  it,  as  we  left  a  distinct  trail  behind.  We  pushed  on, 
however,  and  soon  struck  a  wagon  road,  from  which  the  snow 
had  either  blown  off  or  melted  away.  It  was  not  a  public  road, 
but  was  used  merely  as  a  timber  road,  to  get  out  of  the  woods 
with  loads  of  rails  and  wood.  Its  surface  was  very  hard  and 
gravelly,  and  we  followed  it  a  mile  or  two  in  a  southerly  di- 
rection without  leaving  many  distinct  foot-prints. 

The  railroad  leading  from  Danville,  Va.,  to  Greensboro,  N.  C., 
was  soon  reached,  and  we  followed  it  in  a  south-west  course :  we 
walked  on  the  ties,  and  made  very  good  time.  Soon  we  had 
reached  a  part  of  the  road  which  ran  over  a  high  grading.  On 
hearing  a  distant  rumbling  noise  in  the  south,  we  judged  there 
was  a  train  of  cars  coming.  In  a  few  minutes  more  we  saw  the 
bead-light  on  the  engine  as  it  came  around  the  curve  made  nee- 


20  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

essary  by  the  hills.  We  quickly  slipped  down  the  side  of  the 
grading  into  the  bushes,  and  watched  the  train  as  it  passed. 
But  one  person  on  the  train  was  visible  to  us,  and  that  was  a 
man  standing  at  the  door  of  the  last  car  with  a  lantern  in  hi? 
hand. 

On  regaining  the  top  of  the  grade,  we  resumed  our  travels, 
walking  on  the  ties  as  before.  We  followed  the  railroad  until 
we  had  gone  about  five  miles  from  our  starting-point,  when  we 
came  to  a  wagon  road,  which  crossed  the  railroad  at  right  angles. 
This  road  had  the  appearance  of  being  much  traveled ;  by  turning 
to  pur  right  and  following  it,  we  went  north-west  —  the  direction 
we  wished  to  go.  As  we  passed  a  house  near  the  road  side, 
Trippe  recognized  the  place  as  one  he  had  seen  when  out  before, 
making  his  first  attempt  to  escape.  He  also  knew  the  road  we 
were  following  would  lead  us  to  the  Seven-mile  Ferry.  This  feri  y 
was  so  called  from  the  fact  of  its  being  seven  miles  up  Dan 
Kiver  from  Danville.  We  wished  to  gain  the  left  or  northern 
bank  of  Dan  Eiver  before  daybreak,  if  possible,  and  we  pushed 
on  eagerly  and  rapidly.  The  road  was  smooth.  Its  white  sandy 
surface  could  be  plainly  seen.  Dense  woods,  with  thick  bushy 
undergrowth,  closely  lined  it  on  either  side.  The  hill  leading 
down  to  the  ferry  was  at  length  reached.  It  was  a  long,  but  not 
a  steep  hill.  The  road  as  it  led  us  down  the  hill-side  was 
meandering  in  its  course. 

When  we  were  but  little  more  than  half-way  down  hill,  the 
thought  that  there  might  be  a  guard  at  the  ferry  happened  to 
suggest  itself  to  Trippe's  mind.  He  proposed  that  we  should 
retire  into  the  brush  near  the  road  side,  and  wait  until  he  should 
go  on  toward  the  ferry  and  reconnoiter.  We  assented  to  this 
proposal,  and  went  a  dozen  steps  or  more  from  the  road  and 
halted.  Trippe  went  on  down  hill  alone.  He  was  gone  several 
minutes,  a  half  hour  almost  it  seemed  to  us  in  our  restless 
anxiety  and  concern.  We  became  impatient  for  his  return,  and 
quitting  our  places  in  the  brush,  walked  down  hill  on  the  road. 
Near  the  foot  of  the  hill  we  saw  Trippe  slowly  retreating  from 
the  ferry.  He  had  seen  us,  and  removing  the  cap  from  his  head, 
was  excitedly  motioning  for  us  to  halt.  We  stopped  immediately, 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  21 

and  kept  still.  Trippe  also  stopped,  and  turned  around,  looking 
anxiously  toward  the  ferry.  He  looked  only  for  a  moment,  and 
then  quietly  rejoined  us  where  we  had  been  waiting.  He  whis- 
pered to  us,  saying,  "Let's  go  back  up  hill."  We  turned  about, 
and  walked  silently  up  the  road.  No  word  was  spoken  until  we 
had  reached  the  hill-top.  It  was  to  us  a  moment  of  deep  and 
thrilling  interest  and  expectancy. 

On  reaching  the  upland  we  halted  at  the  road  side,  and  Trippe 
reported  the  discoveries  he  had  made  at  the  ferry.  He  had  gone 
very  cautiously  down  hill,  and  had  soon  stood  where  he  could 
see  the  river  plainly,  and  also  the  ferry-boat.  He  had  stood 
perfectly  still  until  he  had  assured  himself  that  no  guard  was 
near.  He  could  see  nothing  but  the  forest-trees,  the  river,  and 
the  ferry-boat,  in  the  light  of  the  brightly  shining  moon,  which 
made  the  frost  and  waters  sparkle.  He  could  hear  no  sound, 
jia.ve  those  of  the  swiftly  running  waters,  and  these  amply  sufficed 
\o  drown  any  noise  he  himself  might  make.  He  turned  around 
jiiid  started  back  to  us,  to  beckon  us  forward.  Almost  at  the  same 
instant  he  heard  a  noise.  Thinking  he  might  have  trodden  on  a 
*,tick  and  broken  it,  thus  making  the  noise  himself,  he  proceeded 
half  a  dozen  steps  further;  when,  still  hearing  something,  he 
t (topped,  and  again  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  ferry.  A  little 
l,o  the  right  of  it,  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  he  saw  the  sparks  of  a 
lire  flying  upward.  He  watched  the  fire  closely,  and  it  sent  up  a 
}]aze  which  shed  light  far  around.  One  Butternut  cavalryman 
was  first  seen  to  stir  the  fire,  and  then  add  fuel  to  it.  Soon 
three  others  got  up  from  their  bed  and  warmed  themselves. 
Trippe  stood  still,  and  watched  them,  until  they  laid  down  and 
covered  themselves  in  their  bed.  He  then  silently  withdrew, 
feeling  sure  he  had  not  been  heard  or  seen.  As  he  did  so,  the 
horses  of  the  cavalrymen  neighed,  and  pawed  the  ground,  as  if 
manifesting  uneasiness.  As  we  were  sure  the  Confederates  were 
not  aware  of  our  presence,  we  felt  glad  we  had  escaped  so  well. 
Our  escape  was  a  narrow  one,  however ;  had  we  arrived  at  the 
ferry  ten  minutes  sooner,  we  should  most  certainly  have  been 
recaptured. 

Our  disappointment  in  not  getting  across  the  river  at  the 


22  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

ferry  was.  great,  as  we  could  make  no  progress  in  the  direction 
we  wished  to  go  until  we  had  gained  its  northern  bank.  We 
consulted  briefly  as  to  the  course  we  should  pursue ;  and  soon  de- 
termined to  retrace  our  steps  until  we  should  find  another  road, 
or  some  path  that  would  lead  us  up  the  river.  We  started.  As 
the  weather  was  cold  and  morning  approaching,  we  hurried  on. 
An  obscure  road,  leading  off  in  a  south-west  direction,  was  soon 
found.  We  changed  our  course,  and  followed  it.  It  led  by  some 
plantation  houses.  We  left  the  road  and  houses  some  distance 
to  our  right,  as  we  did  not  wish  to  alarm  the  dogs  and  set  them 
to  barking. 

On  returning  to  the  road,  we  followed  it  directly  up  the  river 
until  we  had  traveled  five  or  six  miles,  from  Seven-mile  Ferry. 
It  became  evident  that  day-break  was  at  hand.  A  safe  hiding- 
place  for  the  day  next  engaged  our  attention,  and  we  halted.  It 
was  first  determined  that  one  of  our  number  should  go  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  further  up  the  road,  to  see  if  any  houses  were  near  in 
that  direction.  Sutherland  went  some  distance  ahead,  and  on 
returning  reported  none.  As  we  had  passed  but  one  house  since 
falling  back  from  the  ferry,  we  judged  we  were  some  distance 
from  any  human  habitation.  The  query  then  arose,  shall  we 
hide  in  the  open  woods  on  our  left,  or  in  the  inclosed  woods  on 
our  right  ?  After  a  short  parley,  we  concluded  to  secrete  our- 
selves in  the  inclosed  woods.  We  could  then  get  to  the  river 
without  having  the  road  to  cross.  Any  parties  of  cavalrymen 
that  might  be  out  scouring  the  country,  were  also  less  likely  to 
come  across  us  in  our  retreat.  Accordingly  we  crossed  the  rail- 
fence,  and  left  it  and  the  road  directly  behind  us.  We  worked 
our  way  through  the  thickets  of  brush  and  briers  until  we  were 
fully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  road,  in  the  direction  of  the 
river.  On  a  spot  of  ground  entirely  surrounded  by  pine-trees 
and  bushes  we  made  our  bed,  and,  lying  down,  soon  fell  asleep. 

The  weather  being  quite  cold  in  the  early  morning,  we  waked 
up  at  sunrise,  on  account  of  cold  feet  and  general  discomfort  of 
body.  Trippe  got  up  and  took  a  partial  survey  of  the  adjacent 
woods.  He  went  northward,  still  further  from  the  road  we  had 
left  at  day-break,  and  found  an  open  space  where  we  could  make 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  23 

our  bed  in  the  sunshine.  To  this  open  space,  which  was  covered 
over  with  tall  dead  grass,  we  moved  our  haversacks  and  bedding. 
As  we  wished  to  rest  well  during  the  day,  we  took  pains  to  make 
a  good  bed.  Quite  a  lot  of  dead  grass  and  leaves  was  first 
gathered.  On  the  grass  and  leaves  we  spread  the  four  overcoats 
belonging  to  our  party.  On  the  overcoats  we  spread  Smith's, 
bed  quilt.  Our  caps,  haversacks,  and  blouses  were  used  as  pil- 
lows, and  our  five  blankets  were  used  as  covering.  In  this  man- 
ner we  usually  made  our  bed  all  through  our  trip,  varying  it, 
of  course,  according  to  circumstances.  Having  completed  our 
bed,  we  laid  ourselves  down  to  rest,  and  slept  comfortably  until 
late  in  the  day.  We  made  it  a  rule  for  each  of  our  party  to 
sleep  as  much  as  desired  during  the  day.  We  did  not  require 
one  of  our  number  to  keep  awake  as  a  watch  for  the  others  dur- 
ing the  day.  If  we  had  done  so,  we,  of  course,  would  have 
watched  by  turns.  The  propriety  of  so  doing  was  often  discussed, 
but  we  generally  deemed  it  safest  to  have  no  watch,  as  the  per- 
son watching  would  have  to  sit  or  stand  up,  and  would  thus  ex- 
pose himself  to  the  danger  of  being  seen  by  somebody  who  might 
be  passing,  and  so  lead  to  our  recapture. 

It  was  near  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  February  20th, 
when  we  aroused  ourselves  from  our  first  slumber  as  refugees 
from  prison.  We  got  up  and  went  down  into  a  hollow  near  us, 
where  there  was  running  water,  and  washed  our  faces.  After 
combing  our  hair,  we  opened  our  haversacks,  and  were  about 
commencing  to  eat,  when  we  discovered  that  our  corn-bread 
was  frozen.  Our  matches — of  which  we  had  two  small  boxes — 
which  we  had  luckily  procured  some  two  weeks  before,  now 
came  in  good  play,  as  it  was  needful  to  have  a  small  fire  in 
order  to  thaw  our  bread.  We  secured  a  small  lot  of  dry  pine 
limbs  and  twigs,  and  built  a  fire  in  the  hollow  sufficient  for 
our  purposes;  and  soon  we  had  dispatched  our  first  meal  since 
leaving  Ward  No.  1.  After  finishing  our  meal,  we  put  our 
blankets  and  other  baggage  in  traveling  order.  As  it  was  too 
early  to  set  out,  we  engaged  in  conversation,  laying  plans  and 
expedients  for  effecting  a  crossing  of  the  river.  We  resolved 
to  put  ourselves  across  Dan  River  that  night,  or  on  the  follow- 


24  A  STORY  OP  THE  WAR. 

ing  day,  at  almost  any  risk.  As  a  final  preparation  for  the 
night's  marching,  we  each  secured  a  stout  stick  or  cane.  One 
of  the  boys  alleged  our  canes  would  be  needed  in  case  of  at- 
tack. Taylor  had  a  very  large  cane  for  a  man  of  his  size.  On 
being  spoken  to  concerning  it,  he  remarked  that  he  was  going  to 
cross  the  river  on  it.  The  evening  wore  away.  The  king  of  day 
having  sunk  below  the  western  horizon,  we  began  to  look  for  the 
moon,  whose  light  was  to  shine  upon  our  pathway.  It  had  not 
appeared  above  the  horizon ;  soon  afterward,  however,  the  moon 
arose,  and  began  shedding  light.  We  felt  a  kind  of  loneliness  on 
leaving  the  place  which  ha$  sheltered  us  during  the  day. 

As  Danville,  Virginia,  was  within  one  mile  of  the  southern 
boundary  of  the  State,  and  as  we  were  at  least  thirteen  miles 
south-west  of  that  place,  we  knew  we  were  in  the  friendly  brush 
and  thickets  of  North  Carolina.  On  setting  out,  instead  of  go- 
ing directly  back  to  the  road,  we  traveled  parallel  with  it  for 
more  than  a  mile.  We  then  changed  our  course  and  went  back 
to  it,  thinking  it  late  enough  to  travel  it  without  meeting  any 
one.  We  had  gone  but  a  few  miles  on  the  road,  and  passed  but 
one  house,  when  the  noise  of  the  river  assured  us  it  was  not  far 
off.  We  then  left  the  road  and  sought  the  banks  of  the  stream. 
We  crossed  an  old  field,  in  which  we  found  much  mud  and 
•nater.  The  walking  was  slavish  and  wearisome,  as  the  wet, 
i:'.ayey  soil  adhered  to  our  shoes.  The  snow,  which  had  recently 
melted,  had  swollen  the  branches.  We  found  it  necessary  to 
uross  a  branch  or  almost  go  back  on  our  trail.  By  means  of  a 
i'ence,  a  water  gate,  and  some  rails,  we  succeeded  in  crossing  it 
without  much  difficulty.  It  required  time  and  close  watching, 
however. 

On  leaving  the  branch  behind  us  we  climbed  a  fence  and 
entered  the  woods.  These  woods  were  dense,  and  there  was  a 
thick,  brushy  undergrowth,  which  greatly  impeded  our  progress. 
We  found  it  impossible  to  go  directly  to  the  river.  It  was 
quite  dark,  for,  although  the  moon  was  shining  brightly,  its 
light  penetrated  the  heavy  woods  imperfectly.  From  the  in- 
cessant roar  of  waters  we  judged  we  were  near  the  river;  but 
we  struggled  on  through  vines  and  thickets  for  a  full  half-hour 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  25 

longer.  It  was  not  a  great  while  until  we  could  see,  ahead  of 
us,  quite  an  opening;  it  was  the  course  of  the  river  through  the 
forests.  We  pressed  on  and  soon  stood  upon  the  bank,  against 
which  dashed  the  angry  waters.  Huge  pieces  of  ice  were  borne 
swiftly  down  the  swollen  stream.  We  had  thought  of  construct- 
ing a  raft  of  poles  and  rails,  lashing  them  together  with  bark 
and  vines;  but  such  materials  were  not  at  hand,  and  the  con- 
dition of  the  river  forbade  the  attempt  at  crossing  on  a  raft. 
We  longed  to  get  across  the  river,  but  the  prospect  seemed  all 
but  hopeless. 

We  pushed  on  up  stream,  hoping  to  find  suitable  materials 
for  building  a  raft  and  a  place  where  the  condition  of  the  river 
would  admit  of  launching  it.  We  had  gone  a  mile  or  more 
•vithout  discovering  any  means  by  which  we  could  cross  the 
litream;  still  we  did  not  despair;  hope  continued  to  struggle 
against  reality.  We  must  get  across  the  river  that  night,  we 
thought,  or  venture  too  far  and  risk  too  much  to-morrow.  The 
current  of  water  became  more  rapid  and  impetuous  as  we  ad- 
vanced; the  roar  of  the  river  sounded  much  louder  than  before, 
and  our  chances  of  getting  across  did  not  seem  to  improve.  We 
B3on  came  to  a  drift  of  logs,  slabs,  and  rails,  but  owing  to  the 
condition  of  the  stream,  the  quantities  of  ice  and  other  obstruc- 
tions in  it,  we  concluded  it  would  be  time  and  labor  lost  to  make 
a  raft  and  attempt  a  crossing  there.  Our  resolution  to  follow 
on  up  stream,  keeping  close  to  the  water's  edge  until  morning, 
^ras  then  fited.  If  we  failed  to  find  a  canoe  or  other  means  of 
crossing  before  that  time  we  were  then  to  resort  to  other  meas- 
ures to  get  us  out  of  our  difficulties. 

After  our  minds  were  fully  made  up  as  to  the  course  we 
should  pursue  we  traveled  about  two  and  a  half  or  three  miles, 
when  Sutherland  and  I,  who  were  considerably  in  advance,  espied 
a  canoe  fastened  to  the  shore-  with  a  chain  and  padlock.  We 
were  almost  overjoyed  at  the  discovery.  We  could  not  wait  for 
our  associates  to  come  up,  but  followed  back  down  stream  to 
meet  them.  They  were  soon  informed  that  we  had  found  a  canoe, 
but  they  were  almost  incredulous.  In  a  few  minutes,  however, 
all  doubts  were  removed,  as  they  beheld  with  their  own  eyes 


26  A  STORY   OF   THE   WAR. 

the  object  of  our  anxious  and  careful  search.  We  felt  as  jubi- 
lant and  hopeful  as  if  deliverance  from  all  our  troubles  was  just 
at  hand;  but,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  we  did  not  for- 
get to  exercise  caution.  It  was  evident  the  canoe  had  not  been 
used  for  several  days;  the  oar  was  lying  in  it,  frozen  in  the  ice, 
which  had  thawed  but  little;  the  ice  near  the  middle  of  the 
canoe,  where  the  oar  was  lying,  was  about  three  inches  thick.  In 
loosening  the  oar  and  breaking  the  chain  which  secured  the  canoe, 
much  noise  would  be  made.  It  was  necessary  to  have  two  or 
three  rails  or  poles.  Smith  and  I  went  out  some  distance  from 
the  river  to  procure  them,  and  to  see  if  any  house  was  near. 
We  found  an  old  orchard,  inclosed  by  a  dilapidated  fence.  On 
the  southern  borders  of  the  orchard  we  found  two  log  huts,  but 
they  were  old  and  tenantless. 

We  returned  to  the  river  carrying  with  us  three  or  four  stout 
rails.  As  we  were  satisfied  we  should  not  be  heard  we  set  to 
work  regardless  of  the  noise  we  made.  We  found  the  canoe 
was  locked  or  fastened  in  a  large  slab  of  ice,  which  extended 
beyond  it  into  the  swift  water.  We  first  used  our  sheet-iron 
knives  and  some  sharp-pointed  and  sharp-cornered  rocks,  and 
loosened  the  canoe  from  its  icy  bed.  A  passage-way  for  the 
canoe  was  next  broken  through  the  ice  to  the  current  of  the 
stream.  We  then  took  our  stoutest  rail  and  broke  the  chain  by 
prying  on  it.  I  took  a  rail  and  placed  myself  in  the  end  of  the 
canoe  farthest  out  from  the  shore.  Our  haversacks,  coats,  and 
blankets  were  then  placed  in  it,  and  Trippe  and  Taylor  came 
aboard.  Trippe,  with  the  oar  in  hand,  launched  us  out  into  the 
river.  We  found  a  swiftly  rushing  current,  and  were  compelled 
to  row  up  stream.  We  kept  bearing  to  our  right,  however,  and 
soon  came  in  contact  with  the  ice,  which  extended  out  from  the 
opposite  bank.  I  took  my  rail  and  began  breaking  the  ice.  Soon 
I  had  broken  a  narrow  passage-way  for  the  canoe,  into  which  we 
thrust  it,  and  it  became  steady.  I  kept  on  breaking  the  ice  and 
pushing  the  pieces  aside.  The  canoe  was  pushed  nearer  and  nearer 
the  bank.  Soon  I  could  reach  the  low  branches  of  a  tree,  which 
stood  near  the  water's  brink.  I  held  on  to  the  boughs  of  the 
tree,  and  walked  ashore  on  the  ice.  Taylor  and  I  removed  our 


ESCAPE   OP   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  27 

P 

baggage  from  the  canoe  to  the  bank.  Trippe  went  to  bring  over 
our  three  comrades,  who  had  been  patiently  waiting  and  watch- 
ing. He  found  some  difficulty  in  entering  the  passage  way  as  he 
iieared  the  bank  upon  which  they  stood.  In  due  time  our  party 
was  safely  landed  on  the  shore,  for  which  we  had  been  anxiously 
striving  the  best  part  of  two  nights. 

The  first  great  obstacle  to  our  journey  was  surmounted.  We 
felt  freer  and  safer.  We  were  several  miles  from  Danville — at 
least  twenty.  It  was  past  midnight.  The  sky  above  us  was  per- 
fectly clear.  The  moon  was  high  in  the  heavens,  and  sent  down 
rays  of  silvery  light.  Northward,  in  the  direction  we  wished  to 
travel,  the  country  appeared  clear  of  timber,  and  we  had  hopes 
of  finding  a  good  road  before  going  a  great  distance.  When  we 
were  ready  to  leave  the  river  this  question  arose :  what  shall  we 
do  with  our  canoe  —  tie  it  up  or  allow  it  to  float  down  the  river? 
We  felt  gratefully,  even  tenderly  toward  it.  It  had  done  us  a 
great  service.  We  concluded  to  lash  it  fast  to  the  tree,  whose 
branches  hung  low  upon  the  bank.  We  did  so;  and  left  it  and 
the  river  behind  us. 

We  pushed  due  northward  across  the  cleared  fields.  Some 
houses  were  soon  discernible  in  the  moonlight,  not  far  ahead  of 
us.  Turning  a  little  to  the  left,  we  soon  reached  a  point  directly 
west  of  the  houses.  We  heard  much  noise,  and  stopped  to  see 
if  we  could  make  out  what  it  meant.  We  approached  a  few 
steps  nearer,  and  heard  singing  and  dancing.  We  thought  it 
late  for  such  exercises ;  but  as'  it  was  Saturday  night  all  was 
explained,  that  night  being  known  in  Carolina  as  negroes'  night. 
As  we  had  provisions  enough  for  a  meal  or  two,  we  did  not  in- 
terrupt the  exercises,  or  make  our  presence  known  to  the  negroes. 
Nor  did  we  tarry  long,  as  we  had  no  time  to  lose.  We  were  in 
Carolina,  and  had  many  miles  to  travel  and  many  weary  marches 
to  make  through  a  bleak  mountain  country  before  our  escape  was 
made  good.  Our  circuit  around  the  houses  was  continued  at  a 
safe  distance,  until  we  struck  a  road  running  south-east  and 
north-west.  We  turned  to  our  left  and  followed  the  road  north- 
west a  little  more  than  a  mile.  As  we  felt  somewhat  hungry, 
we  halted  among  some  bushes  at  the  road  side  and  eat  a  few 


28  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

pieces  of  corn-bread.  After  eating,  we  pushed  on,  feeling  much 
refreshed.  In  a  short  time  we  came  to  a  cross-road,  when  we 
changed  our  course  and  went  due  north.  In  that  direction  we 
traveled  until  day-break.  A  safe  hiding-place  for  the  day  was 
next  in  order,  and  we  set  about  finding  it.  We  went  into  the 
woods  some  distance  to  the  left  of  the  road,  where  we  found 
quite  a  cluster  of  cedar  bushes,  in  the  midst  of  which  we  thought 
we  could  safely  spend  the  Sabbath  day,  February  21st.  Our 
bed  was  at  once  made  and  we  gladly  laid  ourselves  down  to  slum- 
ber soundly. 

It  was  near  three  o'clock  in  the  evening  when  we  awoke. 
On  looking  about  us  in  all  directions,  and  seeing  nobody,  we  got 
up.  We  ventured  to  a  branch,  nearly  a  hundred  yards  distant, 
and  washed  our  faces.  The  canteen  and  bucket  were  filled  with 
water  and  brought  near  where  we  had  been  sleeping.  Our  toilet 
vras  completed  by  combing  our  hair,  after  which  we  sat  down 
and  eat  the  last  of  our  provisions.  How  we  should  procure 
another  supply  became  the  subject  of  discussion.  Various  plans 
vrere  proposed ;  one  of  which  we  determined  to  try.  If  it  failed 
\»re  were,  of  course,  to  resort  to  another.  The  late  hours  of  the 
evening  were  passed  in  adverting  to  the  good  fortune  which  had 
Attended  us  so  far  on  the  trip.  The  possibilities  and  probabilities 
af  the  future  were  also  alluded  to. 

As  we  became  deeply  interested  in  our  talk  the  time  passed 
quickly.  The  tall  forest-trees  cast  long  shadows  over  us.  The 
sun  was  disappearing  in  the  west.  The  sky  was  cloudless.  Our 
preparations  for  the  third  night  of  travel  were  complete.  Soon 
after  dusk  we  emerged  from  our  hiding  place,  and  in  due  time 
were  upon  the  road.  Our  rest  during  the  day  had  been  refresh- 
ing, and  we  walked  briskly  forward.  We  passed  one  house  early 
in  the  night.  It  was  too  early,  we  thought,  to  try  our  plan  for 
procuring  food,  and  the  appearance  of  the  house  and  its  sur- 
roundings did  not  justify  the  belief  that  the  occupants  had  any 
food  to  spare.  So  we  passed  on.  Near  ten  o'clock  we  came  to 
another  house  on  our  left.  It  was  near  the  road,  not  more  than 
twenty  yards  distant.  From  appearances  all  inside  were  asleep. 
At  least  no  light  was  visible,  and  silence  reigned.  At  most  of 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  29 

the  houses  we  had  passed,  the  dogs  had  barked  at  us.  It  was 
not  so  at  this  one.  We  went  a  few  yards  beyond  the  house  and 
halted  in  the  road.  Five  of  us  were  to  lie  in  wait,  while  the 
sixth  went  forth  on  the  errand  of  necessity.  Which  one  of  us 
should  go  upon  the  errand  was  a  question  for  decision.  It  was 
decided  by  drawing  cuts.  Taylor  was  chosen  to  attempt  the  ex- 
periment. Taylor's  overcoat  was  of  a  light-gray  color,  and  had 
once  belonged  to  a  Confederate  soldier.  Smith's  cap  was  also  of 
"secesh"  antecedents.  Taylor  donned  them  both,  and  was  to 
play  the  Confederate  soldier  on  furlough.  He  was  to  go  to  the 
front  door  of  the  house  and  knock.  When  the  door  was  opened 
to  him,  if  he  was  asked  to  come  in  he  was  to  decline  on  the  pre- 
text of  not  having  time.  He  was  then  to  apply  for  something 
to  eat,  enough  for  himself  and  two  comrades  a  supper  that  night 
and  breakfast  the  next  morning,  which  would  suffice  for  one  meal 
for  our  party.  He  was  to  insist  on  immediate  compliance  to  the 
request  on  the  plea  that  he  and  his  comrades  were  hungry  and 
obliged  to  march  all  night.  If  asked  why  so  ?  he  was  to  answer 
that  they  had  been  home  on  furlough,  that  their  time  was  nearly 
out,  and  that  they  must  report  to  the  company  by  a  certain  time — 
we  had  anticipated  many  questions  that  we  judged  would  be 
asked,  and  had  answers  to  suit. 

After  we  had  drilled  Taylor  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  road 
side,  and  found  him  to  be  a  hungry  soldier,  with  nothing  Con- 
federate about  him  except  his  overcoat  and  cap,  he  started  to  the 
house.  Our  eyes  followed  him  as  long  as  he  could  be  seen.  We 
then  retired  from  the  road  to  the  fence  and  waited  about  twenty 
minutes,  until  Taylor  returned  and  made  report.  He  entered 
the  yard  in  front  of  the  house  and  approached  the  door.  Before 
reaching  the  door  his  heart  suddenly  failed  of  its  purpose.  He 
felt  himself  unequal  to  the  emergency.  He  immediately  turned 
to  his  left  to  examine  a  smoke-house  or  other  out-house,  in 
which  he  hoped  to  find  something  that  would  do  to  eat.  The 
door  was  securely  fastened,  which  fact  caused  him  to  suspect 
there  were  some  provisions  inside.  The  house  was  constructed 
of  round  logs,  and  Taylor  reached  his  arm  through  the  space 
between  them  to  see  if  he  could  feel  any  meat.  He  examined 


30  A   STOHY   OF   THE  WAR. 

carefully  on  each  side,  but  his  arm  was  too  short.  He  could  feel 
nothing.  In  the  mean  time,  his  attention  was  attracted  to  another 
out-building,  and  he  went  to  examine  it.  He  passed  the  dwell- 
ing, leaving  it  between  him  and  the  road.  His  search  was  still 
unfruitful. 

While  examining  the  second  out-house  he  noticed  a  stable  or 
shed  about  sixty  yards  distant.  By  going  to  it  he  would  be  still 
farther  from  the  dwelling,  and  he  would  feel  safer  while  prose- 
cuting his  search.  As  a  last  resort  before  going  to  the  dwelling, 
he  visited  the  stable  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  corn,  upon 
which  we  would  have  subsisted  in  preference  to  running  too 
great  a  risk  in  procuring  more  palatable  food.  He  could  find 
no  corn  in  the  stable,  nor  grain  of  any  kind.  There  was  some 
hay  or  straw,  and  a  lot  of  corn-blades  tied  in  bundles.  In  a  shed 
adjoining  the  stable  were  six  or  seven  horses  feeding  on  corn- 
blades.  Taylor  was  impressed  with  the  idea  that  they  were 
cavalry  horses,  and  on  farther  examination  a  saddle  or  rig  for 
each  of  the  horses  was  found.  He  then  determined  not  to  visit 
the  dwelling  at  all,  as  it  was  certain  there  was  half  a  dozen  or 
more  men,  perhaps  cavalry-men,  inside  of  it,  sheltering  for  the 
night.  He  then  quietly  rejoined  us  at  the  road  side.  We  had 
run  a  great  risk;  our  escape  had  been  narrow.  Had  Taylor 
gone  half  a  dozen  steps  nearer  the  house  he  would  have  walked 
on  some  plank  or  slabs  in  front  of  the  door;  his  footfalls  might 
have  been  heard  by  those  inside,  and  his  presence  become  known. 
It  was  manifest  that  good  fortune  was  still  a  companion  of  our 
journey.  Had  the  plan  we  had  devised  been  followed  our  re- 
capture would  certainly  have  ensued. 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  night — near  eleven  o'clock — and  we 
determined  to  put  several  miles  between  those  cavalry-men  and 
our  stopping-place  in  the  morning.  Before  starting,  however, 
we  held  a  short  parley  as  to  the  propriety  of  taking  the  horses 
and  riding  them  until  day-break.  On  the  question  of  taking  the 
horses  our  party  was  about  equally  divided.  The  views  of  those 
who  opposed  the  project  prevailed.  The  chief  objection  to  it  was' 
the  great  and  necessary  risk,  at  the  time,  in  getting  the  horses 
to  the  road  without  disturbing  their  owners,  and  that  in  case 


ESCAPE  OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  31 

we  were  retaken,  and  found  guilty  of  horse-stealing  or  other 
depredations,  it  might  go  hard  with  us.  By  the  light  of  the 
moon  we  discovered  we  had  made  numerous  foot-prints  in  the 
road.  We  could  not  obliterate  them  without  taking  time,  and 
leaving  even  plainer  traces  behind  us.  So  we  walked  backward 
several  yards  on  the  road.  On  the  north  of  the  road  were  open 
woods.  We  stepped  aside  from  the  road  a  few  yards  and  walked 
parallel  with  it,  face  foremost,  through  the  woods,  where  we  could 
make  no  tracks.  On  going  about  a  mile  we  crossed  to  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  road.  In  so  doing  we  went  south,  but  left 
tracks  in  the  road  as  though  we  had  gone  north.  We  walked 
rapidly  through  the  woods  near  the  road  until  we  had  gone 
another  mile,  which  brought  us  to  fields.  As  the  walking  was 
not  good  in  the  fields  on  account  of  the  moist  clay,  we  took  the 
road  and  hurried  forward.  At  short  intervals  we  went  on  the 
double-quick.  By  midnight  we  had  traveled  ten  or  eleven  miles. 
More  than  one-third  of  the  distance  had  been  gone  over  since 
we  had  found  the  cavalry  horses.  Our  speed  had  been  acceler- 
ated by  that  discovery.  We  were  much  wearied,  and  halted  at 
a  fence  near  the  road  side  to  rest.  We  were  hungry,  and  would 
have  eaten  something,  but  our  haversacks  were  empty,  and  hang- 
ing loosely  at  our  side.  Our  rest  was  brief,  but  sufficiently  long 
to  stiffen  our  knee  and  ankle  joints. 

Our  journey  was  resumed,  and  we  trudged  on  slowly  at  first, 
but  soon  increased  our  speed.  There  were  but  few  houses  near 
the  road,  and  these  we  passed  with  cautious  steps.  A  second 
attempt  to  get  rations  was  not  made  that  night,  as  we  were  fear- 
ful of  making  a  second  failure,  and  losing  time  besides.  We 
resolved  to  wait  until  the  morrow,  and  trust  to  luck  or  Provi- 
dence to  feed  us.  The  road  improved  as  we  advanced,  and  we 
made  good  progress.  It  bore  a  little  north  of  west.  On  cross- 
ing a  branch  we  halted  and  took  up  some  water  in  our  half- 
moon  tin-bucket  and  drank  freely.  We  then  filled  our  canteen 
and  bucket  with  water  and  carried  it  with  us.  We  were  ex- 
ceedingly tired,  and  did  not  wish  to  take  the  time  and  trouble 
to  look  out  for  a  hiding-place  convenient  to  water.  The  gray 
light  of  morning  was  faintly  appearing  in  the  east,  and  we  knew 


32  A  STORY   OF   THE   WAR. 

our  journeying  must  cease  for  a  time.  Our  sense  of  hunger  had 
subsided,  or  been  overcome  by  weariness.  We  left  the  road  and 
went  some  distance  south  of  it  into  a  heavy  forest.  When  nearly 
a  mile  from  the  road  we  halted,  and  quickly  spread  our  bed  upon 
the  ground.  We  then  sank  wearily  to  rest,  and  were  sleeping 
soundly  before  sunrise. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  February  22d  that  we  had  thus 
sought  repose  in  the  wintery  forest  of  Virginia.  We  had  got  out 
of  Carolina  soon  after  crossing  Dan  River,  and  had  traveled  al- 
most due  northward  until  we  passed  Martinsville,  Henry  county, 
Virginia.  We  passed  about  two  miles  to  the  right  of  Martinrs- 
ville,  and  then  bore  a  little  west  of  north.  On  February  22  d 
we  were  hid  not  many  miles — probably  not  more  than  a  night's 
march — from  the  southern  boundary  of  Franklin  county,  Vir- 
ginia. It  was  the  anniversary  of  Washington's  birth.  We  ro- 
membered  the  fact,  and  revered  the  memory  of  Washington, 
although  his  native  State  had  tendered  us  a  very  poor  and  mea- 
ger hospitality,  and  was  treating  us  shabbily.  The  forest  of 
Virginia,  however,  protected  us  from  her  own  and  our  country's 
enemies. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

BLEEP     DISTURBED — NOISB    IN    THE    WOODS — ITS    CAUSE NEGROES    FURNISH    FOOD — WE 

HIDE  NEAR  THE  TRAIL — HOUNDS  AND  HORSEMEN — EXCITEMENT  OF  THE  CHASE — WK 
BOY  A  QUANTITY  OF  PROVISIONS OUR  OBLIGATIONS ON  THE  HIGHWAY  IN  DAY- 
LIGHT— UNDER  DIFFICULTIES — WOOD  CHOPPER — WOMAN  AND  DOGS — WE  PASS  ROCKY 
MOUNT  C.  H. — INSECURE  HIDING-PLACE CHANGE  OF  BASE — WE  COME  ACROSS  A  CIT- 
IZEN— HE  TAKES  STEPS  TO  CATCH  US,  BUT  IS  TOO  SLOW OUR  FLIGHT OUR  ESCAPE 

RUN  INTO  A  WAGON  TRAIX — HID  AWAY — MAKING  MUSH — SNOW — SORE  FEET  AND 
LAMENESS — TAYLOR  FALLS  BEHIND — TAYLOR  LEFT  ALONE — HIS  CONDITION. 

WHEN  the  sun  was  nearly  an  hour  high,  we  were  aroused 
from  our  slumbers  by  a  loud  and  incessant  racket  in  the 
woods.  We  did  not  uncover  our  heads  at  first.  A  squad  of 
cavalry-men  was  the  first  thing  of  which  we  thought,  but  on  un- 
covering our  heads  and  raising  up  on  our  elbows,  we  found  il, 
was  the  noise  of  wood  choppers  that  had  disturbed  us.  Wu 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  33 

looked  all  around  us,  but  could  see  nobody.  The  chopping  con- 
tinued, and  from  the  noise  we  judged  several  axes  were  being 
used.  We  at  once  concluded  that  a  party  of  negroes  were  at 
work  not  far  from  us,  and  that  we  would  have  an  opportunity 
of  procuring  supplies.  The  prospect  pleased  us.  Had  we  known 
our  conclusion  was  correct  we  should  have  been  in  an  ecstasy  of 
gratitude. 

About  one  hundred  yards  south  of  us  was  a  high  ridge  ex- 
tending east  and  west.  East  of  us,  about  seventy  yards  distant, 
was  another  ridge  or  spur  putting  out  due  northward  from  the 
main  ridge.  We  judged  from  the  sounds  that  the  wood  choppers 
were  east  of  us  and  the  ridge  last  described.  By  consent  of 
our  party,  Sutherland  and  I  got  out  of  bed  and  walked  east- 
wardly  to  the  ridge,  striking  it  not  far  from  the  point  where  it 
was  lost  in  the  level  ground.  We  then  crept  along  on  our  hands 
and  feet,  keeping  close  together  so  that  we  could  talk  to  each 
other  and  be  understood  without  speaking  loudly.  Soon  we  got 
around  the  point  of  the  ridge  to  a  thicket  of  brush,  where  we 
halted.  We  could  see  the  colored  folks  at  work,  plying  their 
axes  vigorously.  We  waited  and  watched  anxiously  a  few  min- 
utes, to  see  if  any  whites  were  with  them.  We  saw  none,  and 
were  glad  of  it ;  we  returned  to  our  comrades  and  made  report. 
We  were  in  a  blissful  state  of  mind,  and  comforted  ourselves  on 
the  cheering  prospect  before  us.  Our  feelings  no  doubt  were 
similar  to  those  of  weary  travelers  in  the  desert  on  approaching 
an  oasis. 

Our  determination  to  consult  with  the  negroes,  and  make 
overtures  for  food  and  such  other  assistance  as  they  could  give, 
was  soon  made.  '  It  was  agreed  that  Sutherland  and  I  should  go 
upon  this  delicate  mission.  We  went,  and  soon  reached  the  point 
from  which  we  had  watched  the  negroes  before.  We  again 
watched  them  closely,  and  assuring  ourselves  that  no  whites  were 
near,  we  emerged  from  the  thicket,  and  walked  briskly  toward 
them.  As  we  approached  one  of  the  negroes  noticed  us.  He 
immediately  called  the  attention  of  the  others  to  us.  Instantly 
all  chopping  ceased,  and  quiet  succeeded.  At  the  same  moment 
we  halted,  and  Sutherland  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth  and  asked 

3 


34  A   STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

if  any  whites  were  about?  The  negro  nearest  us  answered,  "No, 
sah ;  massa  was  heah  dis  mornin',  but  he  done  gone  home  now." 
We  then  advanced  to  the  fires,  around  which  the  negroes  had 
collected  to  the  number  of  ten  or  a  dozen,  large  and  small.  Our 
wants  were  immediately  made  known  to  them.  They  were 
quite  willing,  even  anxious  to  respond  to  our  call  for  food.  They 
offered  to  divide  with  us  at  noon,  when  "missus"  brought  their 
dinner  out.  We  told  them  they  would  not  frave  enough  to  spare, 
as  there  were  six  of  us,  and  we  were  very  hungry.  The  oldest 
negro  or  "boss  hand,"  as  he  was  called,  then  sent  one  of  the 
younger  ones  to  bring  us  something  to  eat.  The  negroes  were 
all  deeply  interested  in  us,  and  were  anxious  to  learn  where  our 
four  comrades  were  hid.  We  told  them,  and  inquired  if  that 
was  a  safe  place.  We  were  informed  it  was  safe  enough,  but 
there  was  a  better  place  south  of  it,  across  the  ridge.  We  told 
the  boss  we  would  cross  the  ridge  and  look  out  a  good  hiding- 
place.  He  promised  to  bring  our  dinner  to  us  as  soon  as  it  was 
brought  to  him  where  he  was  at  work. 

Sutherland  and  I  then  returned  to  our  comrades  and  in- 
formed them  it  would  not  be  long  until  we  should  have  some- 
thing to  eat.  In  accordance  with  the  advice  received  from  our 
colored  friends  we  gathered  our  things  and  moved  across  the 
ridge.  We  had  passed  the  summit  of  the  ridge  and  were  going 
down  its  southern  declivity  when  we  came  to  a  bench  or  level 
place,  where  we  concluded  to  stop  and  make  our  bed.  We  had 
intended  to  go  to  the  level  ground  near  the  base  of  the  ridge,  but 
on  reaching  the  bench  we  knew  of  no  reason  why  we  should  not 
stop  there  for  the  remainder  of  the  day.  We  made  our  bed 
anew,  and  then  washed  our  hands  and  faces,  using  the  water 
from  our  bucket  and  canteen  for  that  purpose.  We  then  seated 
ourselves  upon  our  bed,  and  quietly  awaited  the  approach  of  the* 
"boss"  with  our  dinner.  We  had  waited  a  short  time,  probably 
a  half  hour,  when  we  saw  him  with  a  large  bucket  in  hand  near 
the  base  of  the  ridge  hunting  for  us.  One  of  our  party  rolled  a 
email  stone  down  hill  toward  him  to  let  him  know  where  we 
were.  He  soon  discovered  us,  and  climbed  the  hill-side,  and  de- 
livered to  us  our  dinner.  We  began  eating  immediately,  and 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  35 

found  we  had  been  bountifully  provided  for.  A  bucket  full  of 
eatables,  consisting  of  fried  ham,  fried  eggs,  boiled  beans,  and  corn- 
dodgers, was  furnished  us.  We  had  a  keen  relish  for  such  fare, 
and  devoured  it  all.  When  we  had  finished  eating,  the  negro 
took  his  bucket  and  returned  to  his  work ;  first  telling  us  he 
would  see  us  again  in  the  evening.  Our  appetites  were  fully 
satisfied,  and  we  covered  ourselves  in  our  bed  and  went  to  sleep. 

We  had  slept  but  a  short  time  before  our  rest  was  disturbed 
by  a  considerable  noise.  It  was  the  noise  of  cavalry-men,  without 
doubt,  we  thought,  or  of  horses  running  at  their  utmost  speed. 
We  uncovered  our  heads  and  raised  them  slightly.  On  looking 
southward  we  saw  two  hounds  pass  near  the  base  of  the  ridge. 
They  ran  swiftly,  and  were  hot  in  pursuit  of  game.  They  were 
closely  followed  by  three  or  four  white  citizens  on  horseback. 
The  hounds  and  horsemen  were  soon  out  of  hearing,  and  we  felt 
greatly  relieved.  Just  then  the  excitement  of  the  chase  was  not 
agreeable  to  us.  We  were  heartily  glad  we  were  not  the  objects 
of  pursuit.  Had  we  gone  to  the  level  ground,  at  the  base  of  the 
ridge,  before  halting,  as  was  at  first  intended,  we  would  most 
likely  have  placed  ourselves  directly  on  the  trail.  The  result  to 
us  in  that  case  would  have  been  unfortunate.  As  our  hiding- 
place  was  on  the  steep  side  of  the  ridge,  almost  surrounded  by 
small  trees  and  brush,  we  thought  it  a  safe  one,  and  again  gave 
ourselves  over  to  rest.  We  slept  well  until  late  in  the  day. 
When  we  awoke  the  first  object  almost  which  met  our  vision 
was  our  colored  benefactor  sitting  near  us  whittling  a  stick. 
He  informed  us  we  should  have  another  meal  at  dusk.  We  told 
him  any  thing  good  to  eat  would  be  acceptable  to  us,  and  place 
us  under  lasting  obligations  to  those  who  furnished  it.  We  told 
him,  too,  that  we  had  some  Confederate  money,  and  would  buy 
as  much  provisions  as  he  could  deliver  to  us  at  dark,  if  it  was 
not  more  than  we  could  carry.  He  promised  to  see  if  we  could 
be  supplied,  and  told  us  to  come  up  where  they  were  at  work 
after  sunset. 

As  the  day  was  already  far  spent,  we  began  to  fit  up  for 
another  night's  journey.  On  completing  our  preparations,  we 
waited  a  few  minutes  longer  for  the  sun  to  disappear  in  the 


36  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

west.  Soon  it  had  shed  its  last  ray  over  us  for  the  day,  and  we 
picked  up  our  things  and  started  from  our  retreat.  By  the  twi- 
light we  made  our  way  through  the  woods  to  the  place  where 
the  negroes  had  been  at  work  during  the  day.  Just  before  dark 
we  reached  them.  They  had  ceased  from  their  labors  and  were 
expecting  us.  Some  fruit  pies  fried  in  grease  were  furnished  us 
for  supper.  While  we  were  eating,  the  negroes  asked  what  kind 
of  provisions  we  could  carry  most  of,  or  most  conveniently.  We 
told  them  we  could  do  best  on  meat,  salt,  and  meal.  Two  or 
three  of  them  then  went  to  bring  us  a  supply  of  those  articles. 
In  due  time  they  returned  with  a  ham  of  meat,  a  little  salt,  half 
a  bushel  of  meal,  and  half  a  dozen  corn-dodgers.  Wood  had  wit  h 
him  a  clean  pillow-slip,  brought  from  the  hospital.  In  it  we  pi  ,t 
the  corn-meal.  The  ham  was  cut  in  pieces  and  put  in  our  haver- 
sacks. The  salt  was  carried  by  one  of  our  party  in  a  blouue 
pocket. 

On  setting  out  we  had  the  corn-dodgers,  for  which  there  waa 
no  room  in  our  haversacks;  and  as,  on  account  of  their  size,  we 
could  not  get  them  into  our  blouse  pockets  without  breaking 
them,  we  carried  them  in  our  hands  until  midnight.  The  ham 
had  cost  the  negroes  three  dollars  a  pound,  and  it  weighed  twelve 
pounds  and  a  half.  We  paid  them  thirty-seven  dollars  and  fifty 
cents  for  it  in  Confederate  shin-plaster.  For  the  meal,  salt,  corn- 
bread,  and  what  we  had  eaten  during  the  day,  we  gave  them 
twenty-two  dollars  and  fifty  cents.  We  paid  them  sixty  dollars 
in  all.  It  was  not  necessary,  they  did  not  exact  it,  but  we  had 
the  scrip  and  were  made  no  poorer  by  parting  with  it.  It  was 
current  there  at  the  time,  and  was  much  below  par  in  the  coun- 
try we  hoped  to  reach  ere  long. 

We  conversed  briefly  with  the  colored  people  before  leaving 
them.  We  learned  from  them  that  we  had  traveled  twenty-three 
miles  the  previous  night,  and  that  it  was  about  forty  miles  to 
Rocky  Mount  Court-House,  in  Franklin  county.  It  was  growing 
late.  The  moon  had  risen,  and  was  advancing  in  its  'course. 
Every  hour  of  the  night  was  precious  to  us  and  must  be  im- 
proved. We  expressed  to  our  benefactors  our  obligations.  We 
thanked  them  heartily  and  sincerely.  We  told  them  they  had 


ESCAPE.  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  37 

no  idea  of  the  value  of  the  service  they  had  performed.  It  was 
a  service  to  us;  it  was  also  a  service  to  the  cause  in  which  we 
had  struggled  and  suffered  much.  We  could  not  pay  them  ade- 
quately, but  hoped  in  the  end  they  would  have  their  reward  in 
the  results  of  the  war. 

We  bade  them  good-night  and  left  them,  and  sought  the  road 
immediately;  on  reaching  it  we  could  but  contrast  our  feelings 
with  those  we  had  experienced  on  leaving  it  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. Our  minds  were  at  perfect  ease  on  the  question  of  supplies, 
as  our  pillow-slip  was  full,  our  haversacks  were  full,  and  each 
of  us  had  a  corn-dodger  in  his  hand  besides.'  We  thought  we 
should  make  a  long  stride  toward  our  lines  before  our  supplies 
should  be  exhausted.  The  meal  in  the  pillow-slip  was  carried  by 
turns.  As  we  had  eaten  a  great  deal  during  the  day  we  did  not 
feel  like  walking  rapidly.  We  put  in  the  whole  time,  however, 
until  after  midnight,  when  we  stopped  to  rest  and  eat  some 
bread.  A  few  minutes'  rest  sufficed,  and  we  resumed  our  travels. 

As  no  incident  in  our  travels  particularly  interesting,  or 
worthy  of  record,  transpired  for  two  or  three  nights  or  days,  we 
pass  on  to  the  events  of  a  subsequent  date.  We  will  say,  first, 
that  during  the  interval  of  time  over  which  we  pass  without 
noting  every  circumstance  of  our  journey,  we  were  very  cautious. 
In  the  night-time,  while  passing  houses  near  the  road,  we  main- 
tained the  strictest  silence.  We  walked  carefully,  and  even  then 
the  dogs  often  discovered  us,  and  made  the  night  dismal  with 
their  howling.  We  made  it  a  rule  not  to  allow  daylight  to  find 
us  upon  the  road;  but  before  we  go  much  farther  in  our  narra- 
tive we  will  give  an  instance  in  which  it  did  so  find  us.  The 
first  rays  of  the  sun  generally  shone  upon  us  in  our  bed  asleep. 
During  our  waking  hours  in  day-time,  when  hid  in  the  lonely 
woods,  we  were  careful  not  to  talk,  or  laugh  out  boisterously, 
knowing  the  liability  to  be  heard  at  a  distance.  We  did  not 
stand  up  or  walk  about  a  great  deal.  When  we  had  supplies 
there  was  no  occasion  to  incur  risks,  or  purposely  come  in  con- 
tact with  any  persons,  black  or  white.  We  always  hid,  if  pos- 
sible, where  water  would  be  convenient  to  us.  We  had  fire  in 
day-time  with  which  to  broil  our  meat  and  make  mush.  During 


38  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

the  day  we  prepared  our  midnight  lunch.  When  we  were  in  z 
secure  retreat  for  the  day  we  generally  prepared  a  quantity  of 
mush,  for  fear  our  hiding-place  next  day  would  be  in  a  place 
too  much  exposed  to  admit  of  fire  or  smoke.  In  all  our  move- 
ments we  tried  to  exercise  the  utmost  caution.  As  the  distance 
between  us  and  our  prison  became  greater' we  became,  if  possible, 
more  cautious.  The  farther  we  got  from  prison  the  greater 
would  be  our  disappointment  in  being  caught  and  taken  back. 

The  early  morning  of  February  24th  found  us  upon  the  road, 
which  led  through  an  open  country.  Cleared  and  fenceless  lands 
bordered  it  on  either  side.  We  pushed  on,  in  the  hope  of  reach- 
ing woods,  until  broad  daylight.  At  length  the  rays  of  the 
rising  sun  began  to  illuminate  the  face  of  Nature.  We  were 
then  obliged  to  leave  the  public  highway.  The  road  had  led  us 
northward  the  last  two  nights,  and  still  led  us  in  that  direction. 
We  looked  to  our  right,  where  the  lands  were  hilly  or  a  little 
broken.  We  went  in  that  direction,  thinking  we  could  hide  be- 
hind a  knoll,  or  rising  ground.  Soon  we  gained  a  point  or  crest, 
from  which  the  ground  sloped  gently  to  the  east.  A  hundred 
yards  or  more  ahead  of  us  we  saw  the  tops  of  scattering  trees 
projecting  above  a  bluff.  We  pressed  on,  and  soon  stood  upon  a 
precipice,  and  looked  beyond  it,  over  a  narrow  wooded  valley. 
We  clambered  half-way  down  the  precipice  to  hide  among  the 
rocks.  We  had  laid  our  blankets,  haversacks,  and  bag  of  meal 
aside.  We  were  going  to  make  our  bed,  but  found  the  space  in 
which  we  stood  was  not  large  enough  for  all  of  us.  We  would 
be  hampered  by  the  rocks.  Smith  and  I  had  unrolled  our 
blankets;  Sutherland,  Wood,  Trippe,  and  Taylor  had  gone  a 
little  farther  down  among  the  rocks  to  find  more  room.  About 
the  same  time  we  saw  a  smoke  rising  through  the  trees  in  the 
valley.  We  were  sure  a  house  was  there,  although  we  could  not 
see  it.  It  was  south-east  of  us,  apparently  half  a  mile  distant. 

We  were  about  beginning  the  preparations  for  our  daily  rest 
when  the  noise  of  an  ax  resounded  in  our  ears.  The  noise  was 
so  unexpected  and  so  near  us  that  we  were  startler1,  and  at  first 
looked  around  wildly,  and  in  amaze.  We  soon  recovered  from 
the  shock  of  astonishment  and  surprise,  and  peered  cautiously 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  39 

around  the  rocks  and  looked  below  us.  Not  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  from  us,  in  the  woods  near  the  base  of  the  precipice,  we 
saw  a  single  white  man  wielding  his  ax.  His  dog  was  near  him. 
Oil  account  of  the  dog  we  lay  low.  If  he  had  got  a  glimpse  of 
us  his  master  would  have  become  aware  of  our  presence.  We 
could  not  make  our  bed;  we  could  do  nothing  but  keep  still. 
Smith  and  I  had  near  us  all  the  blankets,  and  all  the  provisions 
belonging  to  our  party.  Our  comrades  were  about  thirty  feet 
below  us,  almost  under  us.  Smith  ventured  to  drop  their  blankets 
to  them,  after  which  we  all  kept  quiet.  We  slept  but  little.  As 
long  as  the  ax  was  used  we  felt  no  fear  of  being  seen  by  the 
man,  but  every  half  hour  we  peered  out  from  the  rocks  to  see 
if  the  dog  was  near  him. 

About  noon,  or  a  little  later,  the  man  ceased  chopping.  We 
thought  we  should  have  a  short  respite  while  the  man  went  to 
dinner,  and  would  embrace  that  opportunity  to  eat  our  own. 
We  looked  out  to  see  him  leaving.  We  were  greatly  disap- 
pointed. A  woman — his  wife  perhaps — had  brought  his  dinner 
to  him,  and  he  was  eating.  She  was  accompanied  by  another 
dog.  The  two  dogs  then  pranced  and  prowled  about  in  the 
woods,  and  we  watched  them  closely.  We  were  fearful  they 
would  go  around,  and  get  above  and  behind  us,  but  they  did  not 
do  so.  We  were  in  a  very  restless  and  impatient  mood;  each 
moment  seemed  an  hour  almost.  We  would  have  parted  with 
jewels,  if  we  had  possessed  them,  to  have  been  away  from  there. 
When  the  man  had  finished  eating,  the  woman  took  her  bucket 
and  went  away,  followed  by  the  dogs.  We  were  highly  pleased 
to  know  the  dogs  were  gone,  for  they  had  annoyed  us  greatly. 
The  man  resumed  his  toil  unconscious  of  our  presence.  As  lie 
chopped  almost  incessantly,  and  could,  therefore,  look  around 
but  little,  we  felt  a  little  safer.  Smith  and  I  opened  our  haver- 
sacks and  took  out  some  meat.  We  cut  off  a  few  thin  slices  and 
sprinkled  them  with  meal.  On  raw  meat  and  meal  we  made  our 
dinner.  While  eating,  Smith  and  I  exhibited  ourselves  to  our 
comrades  below  us.  They  looked  up  wishfully,  and  signified 
their  desire  to  eat.  As  Smith  and  I  had  all  the  commissary 
stores  we  continued  eating,  to  tantalize  our  comrades.  At  length 


40  A  STOEY  OF   THE   WAR. 

we  put  some  meal  and  a  chunk  of  meat  in  a  haversack  and 
dropped  it  to  them. 

The  day  had  been  a  long  one  to  us.  Our  rest  had  not  been 
refreshing.  We  were  in  constant  apprehension  and  suspense. 
The  loss  of  sleep  and  comfort,  in  consequence  of  having  no  bed, 
had  its  effect  upon  our  bodies.  We  felt  chilled  and  sore,  and  we 
longed  for  the  approach  of  night.  Near  four  o'clock,  P.  M.,  the 
wood  chopper  ceased  from  toil  and  went  off  with  his  ax  on  his 
shoulder.  Erelong  the  sun  went  down,  and,  as  soon  as  we  got 
every  thing  ready,  we  climbed  the  precipice  and  went  directly  to 
the  road.  Early  in  the  night  we  found  we  were  about  entering 
the  suburbs  of  a  town.  It  was  Kocky  Mount  Court-House,  Frank- 
lin county.  We  approached  it  on  a  road  which  bore  a  little  west 
of  north.  We  fell  back  a  few  paces  and  began  our  circuit  around 
the  place.  On  leaving  the -road  we  first  climbed  a  fence  and 
went  across  the  corner  of  an  inclosed  tract  of  timber  lands.  We 
then  climbed  a  second  fence  and  entered  open  fields,  in  which  we 
continued  until  the  road  north-west  of  the  place  was  reached.  In 
making  our  circuit  we  were  guided  by  the  lights  in  the  town, 
which  were  yet  burning.  Near  midnight  we  halted  and  eat 
some  meal  and  meat,  upon  which,  with  an  occasional  swallow  of 
water,  we  made  a  respectable  supper. 

On  the  morning  of  February  25th,  as  on  the  previous  morn- 
ing, we  were  in  an  open  country.  At  daylight  we  looked  ahead 
of  us  on  the  road,  but  saw  no  woods.  A  house,  however,  was 
discernible  in  the  distance.  As  we  dared  not  pass  it,  we  left  the 
road  which  had  been  leading  us  westward.  South  of  the  road, 
about  half  a  mile,  we  saw  a  space  of  ground  covered  over  with 
numerous  rocks,  large  and  small.  To  it  we  directed  our  steps, 
in  the  hope  that  the  rocks  would  afford  us  shelter  for  the  day. 
We  soon  reached  the  place,  but  did  not  much  like  it,  and  were 
loath  to  remain  in  its  inadequate  protection.  But  as  the  sun  was 
np,  we  could  not  look  for  a  better  or  more  secure  hiding-place 
without  incurring  even  greater  risks  than  there  would  be  in 
making  our  bed,  and  keeping  it  during  the  day,  where  we  were. 
We  cleared  the  small  rocks  from  a  space  sufficiently  large  for  our 
bed  and  spread  it  upon  the  ground.  We  then  lay  down  to  sleep. 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  41 

Our  heads  were  near  the  base  of  a  large  rock  which  was  between 
us  and  the  road  we  had  left  a  few  moments  before,  and  it  hid  us 
from  view  in  that  direction.  To  our  right  and  left  and  at  our 
feet  were  many  rocks  of  smaller  size,  which  partially  concealed  us 
as  long  as  we  lay  low.  On  lying  down  we  looked  all  around  us, 
but  scarcely  a  tree  or  bush  was  visible.  Nothing  but  a  waste  of 
barren  ground  with  an  undulating  and  rocky  surface  could  be 
seen.  South  of  us,  perhaps  a  little  west,  and  nearly  a  mile  dis- 
tant, was  higher  ground.  Beyond  and  above  it,  a  few  of  the  top- 
most branches  of  the  tallest  trees  projected.  The  chief  feature  of 
the  country  immediately  surrounding  us  was  barrenness  and 
nakedness.  We  could  not  resist  the  impression  that  our  hiding- 
place  was  poorly  chosen.  A  feeling  of  insecurity  crept  over  us. 
The  primeval  forest  of  Virginia,  with  only  the  exception  of  the 
previous  day,  had  hitherto  protected  us  from  the  view  of  the 
rebellious  citizens  of  the  State.  Near  three  hours  of  undisturbed 
repose  was  granted  us. 

Near  ten  o'clock,  A.  M.,  we  were  awakened  by  a  clattering 
noise.  Taylor  looked  out  cautiously  and  discovered  it  was  made 
by  a  wagon  passing  over  a  stony  road.  It  was  not  on  the  road 
we  had  left  in  the  morning,  but  on  one  just  west  of  us,  which 
crossed  or  intersected  it.  It  was  nearly  two  hundred  yards  from 
us.  The  man  in  the  wagon  was  driving  north-east,  having  come 
on  the  road  from  the  south-west.  On  stopping  in  the  morning 
we  had  not  noticed  the  road,  as  the  surface  of  the  ground  was  a 
little  broken,  and  many  rocks  and  knolls  intervened  between  it 
and  ourselves.  It  had  washed  and  worn  considerably  below  the 
level  of  the  ground.  On  finding  we  were  so  near  a  public  high- 
way, we  felt  uneasy,  and  still  more  dissatisfied  with  our  hiding- 
place.  We  did  not  leave  it  yet,  however,  as  the  wagon  had 
passed  on  out  of  hearing. 

We  again  essayed  to  sleep.  We  fell  into  a  kind  of  dozing 
sleep,  from  which  we  were  soon  aroused  by  the  hum  of  voices. 
We  looked  westward  and  saw  several  persons,  mostly  women  and 
children,  walking  on  the  road.  They  were  a  great  while  passing, 
it  seemed  to  us,  and  were  disposed  to  loiter  by  the  way.  We 
felt  in  an  exceedingly  disagreeable  and  unsafe  position.  At 


42  A   STORY   OF  THE   WAR. 

length  the  hum  of  voices  died  away  and  we  tried  to  feel  at  ease, 
but  could  not.  Very  soon  another  rattling  on  the  stony  road 
disturbed  our  equanimity  and  patience.  We  looked  and  saw  a 
cart  on  the  road  driven  by  a  negro.  It  was  a  one-horse  concern, 
and  was  followed  by  a  white  man  on  horseback.  We  judged  we 
were  not  far  from  town,  and  resolved  to  flee  our  hiding-place, 
for  fear  some  strollers,  or  home  guards,  or  somebody  should  come 
upon  us  and  report  us,  and  take  measures  to  recapture  us. 

We  waited  and  watched  until  nearly  noon,  when,  concluding 
there  would  be  no  passing  on  the  road,  we  put  our  things  in 
convenient  shape  for  our  first  day-time  traveling.  Just  as  we 
had  completed  our  preparations,  we  looked  westward  and  north- 
ward to  see  if  any  persons  were  upon  the  road.  We  saw  none. 
We  immediately  started  southward,  bearing  slightly  to  our  left. 
We  did  not  run,  but  walked  rapidly,  without  looking  behind  us. 
When  we  had  gone  about  a  mile,  we  reached  a  point  from  which 
we  could  look  down  an  inclined  plane  into  woods.  We  halted 
and  looked  all  around  us,  but  saw  no  one.  We  judged  we  had 
not  been  seen,  and  deemed  our  movement  a  successful  one.  We 
were  glad  to  see  woods  once  more,  and  pushed  on  until  we  stood 
in  the  midst  of  forest-trees. 

We  sat  down  on  a  large  rock  to  rest  and  watch  awhile.  We 
were  on  a  wooded  hill-side,  which  sloped  gently  to  the  south-west. 
Trippe  got  up  from  his  seat  and  went  in  a  south-east  course  on 
the  hill-side,  to  look  for  a  place  in  which  to  hide.  He  was  gone 
some  time,  and  we  became  impatient  for  his  return.  We  did  not 
wish  to  leave  the  place  where  he  had  left  us  until  he  came  back, 
as  he  would  not  know  where  to  find  us.  Nearly  a  half  hour 
passed  before  we  saw  Trippe  returning.  He  was  walking  slowly 
and  hesitatingly.  He  occasionally  looked  back  in  the  direction  he 
had  gone.  Before  he  reached  us  we  discovered  something  wrong 
had  happened ;  or  if  nothing  wrong,  something  at  least  which  we 
would  rather  had  not  transpired. 

Trippe  was  vexed  and  almost  spiritless.  He  had  been  re- 
captured once,  and  now  he  thought  his  time  had  come  to  be 
caught  again  and  taken  back  to  prison.  He  told  us  the  cause 
of  his  discouragement.  He  had  gone  south-east  of  us,  an  eighth 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  43 

of  a  mile,  or  more,  along  the  hill-side.  He  had  turned  directly 
south  to  go  down  hill,  when  he  saw  a  man  clad  in  "  butternut " 
coming  up  hill.  Trippe  thought,  and  hoped,  he  had  not  been 
noticed  by  the  citizen,  and  stood  still  to  see  if  he  would  pass. 
The  citizen  came  on  up  hill.  His  foot  slipped,  and  he  caught 
hold  of  a  little  tree  to  keep  from  falling.  In  getting  around 
and  above  the  tree  his  head  turned  slightly,  and  he  noticed 
Trippe,  about  twenty  steps  from  him.  As  soon  as  he  recovered 
from  his  surprise  he  approached  Trippe,  and  asked  what  he  was 
doing  there.  Trippe  said  he  was  just  looking  through  the  woods  a 
little.  Other  questions  were  asked,  and  answered  by  each  party. 
Trippe  tried  at  first  to  equivocate,  but  found  it  useless,  as  his 
uniform  was  plainly  that  of  a  Federal  soldier.  He  told  the 
citizen  he  had  been  a  prisoner  at  Danville,  and  with  others  was 
trying  to  make  his  way  to  the  Union  lines.  He  also  told  him 
where  we  were,  and  how  many  there  were  of  us  in  all.  The 
citizen  feigned  sympathy  with  Trippe,  and  expressed  a  hope  that 
he  would  get  home  all  right.  Trippe  had  very  little  faith  in 
him.  He  advised  Trippe  not  to  fight  any  more  against  the 
South,  and  at  the  same  time  offered  his  hand.  Trippe  took  the 
hand  in  his  own  with  not  the  slightest  confidence  in  its  possessor. 
The  Rebel  pledged  to  Trippe  his  word  and  honor  not  to  lay  a 
straw  in  his  path,  and  immediately  turned  and  went  directly 
back  on  his  trail.  Trippe  watched  him,  and  soon  saw  that  he 
hurried  himself,  as  if  suddenly  imbued  with  a  new  purpose. 

When  Trippe  related  the  circumstance  to  us  we  became  in- 
tent on  getting  away  from  there,  as  quickly  and  as  far  as  possi- 
ble. We  placed  no  reliance  in  the  promise  of  the  Confederate 
not  to  lay  a  straw  in  our  path,  but  thought  he  would  take 
measures  to  interpose  greater  obstacles  in  the  way  of  our  prog- 
ress. Our  things  being  already  in  compact  marching  order, 
we  started  immediately.  The  meal  in  the  pillow-slip,  though  not 
heavy,  being  more  than  two-thirds  used,  was  all  the  surplus 
thing  we  had  to  carry.  All  else  was  in  our  haversacks.  We 
went  south-east,  and  soon  reached  the  spot  where  the  citizen  had 
been  encountered  by  Trippe.  We  then  turned  to  our  right  and 
wont  south-west.  On  reaching  the  base  of  the  ridge  we  found 


44  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAE. 

we  would  emerge  from  the  woods  and  cross  cleared  lands,  in  a 
narrow  valley,  or  change  our  course.  There  was  no  time  for 
debate,  and  we  pushed  ahead. 

Near  the  outskirts  of  the  woods  two  little  boys  and  a  little 
girl  were  playing.  As  we  passed,  the  largest  boy  cried  out, 
"Uncle  Jim  has  gone  for  the  guards  to  catch  you  uns  with." 
We  hurried  forward,  scarcely  taking  time  to  thank  the  children 
for  the  information.  If  we  had  to  be  hunted  we  were  glad  to 
know  it.  A  short  distance  ahead  of  us  was  a  house.  We  passed 
near  it,  leaving  it  a  little  to  our  right.  When  we  were  just 
opposite  the  house,  a  woman  came  to  the  door  and  exhorted  us 
to  hurry.  She  said  her  brother-in-law  was  a  "  mean  man,"  and 
had  gone  to  report  us  to  the  home  guards.  As  time  was  gold  to 
us  just  then,  we  did  not  halt,  but  heeded  the  exhortation  so 
earnestly  given.  As  we  crossed  the  branch  which  traversed  the 
narrow  valley  we  heard  the  woman  say  her  husband  had  been 
killed  in  the  war.  She  talked  on,  but  we  were  soon  out  of 
hearing. 

As  we  approached  the  upland,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
valley,  we  began  to  think  about  obscuring  our  trail.  We  noticed 
where  a  hollow,  or  ravine,  entered  the  valley  from  the  wooded 
hill-side.  We  got  into  the  hollow  and  followed  on  its  rocky  bed, 
where  we  made  no  tracks,  until  we  got  some  distance  into  the 
woods.  A  portion  of  the  time  we  went  on  the  double-quick,  and 
sometimes,  when  on  level  ground  or  going  down  hill,  we  went 
even  more  rapidly.  It  was  two  o'clock,  or  a  little  later  in  the 
day,  when  we  first  halted  to  listen  for  "Uncle  Jim"  and  his 
guards.  We  did  not  hear  them,  nor  did  we  wish  to;  so  we 
pressed  on.  We  had  so  far  traveled  three  miles  or  more,  mostly 
in  a  western  direction. 

A  point  had  been  reached  from  which  we  could  look  across 
fields  and  open  country  in  all  directions,  except  south,  south- 
.west,  and  east — the  course  we  should  take  in  retracing  our  steps. 
As  we  did  not  wish  to  cross  fields,  or  go  back  on  our  trail,  we 
turned  southward.  In  that  direction  we  proceeded  until  we  had 
gone  over  a  mile,  when  we  turned  to  our  right,  and  again  pushed 
rapidly  westward,  through  a  heavy  wood.  Soon  we  came  to  a 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  45 

branch  of  clear  running  water.  As  we  were  tired  we  concluded 
we  would  wade  in  the  water,  following  the  stream  down,  and 
thus  obscure  our  trail.  As  we  had  made  tracks  in  the  wet  soil 
near  the  branch  on  approaching  it,  we  pushed  on  across  it,  going 
some  distance  until  the  solid  ground  was  reached.  We  then  got 
back  to  the  branch,  walking  on  scattering  rocks,  sticks,  and  logs, 
so  as  to  leave  no  traces  behind  us.  If  the  guards  were  on  our 
trail,  we  hoped,  when  they  reached  the  branch,  they  would  cross 
it,  and  push  on  westward  as  speedily  as  possible. 

We  followed  down  stream  in  a  south-west  course  for  more 
than  a  mile.  When  in  the  water  we  traveled  at  a  moderate  gait, 
as  the  branch  traversed  a  very  narrow,  thickly  wooded  valley, 
and  we  could  not  be  seen  at  a  distance.  A  point  on  the  branch 
was  at  length  reached  where  a  road  crossed  it.  The  road  had 
the  appearance  of  being  traveled  a  great  deal,  and  we  looked  up 
and  down  it  to  see  if  any  body  could  be  seen.  On  seeing  no  one 
we  crossed  to  the  south  of  the  road,  still  wading  in  the  water. 
After  getting  a  short  distance  into  the  woods,  south  of  the  road, 
we  left  the  branch  and  pushed  rapidly  westward.  Our  feet  had 
become  wet,  and  we  resorted  to  brisk  walking  to  get  our  socks 
dry.  We  would  have  taken  time  to  take  our  socks  off  and  wring 
the  water  from  them,  but,  should  the  guards  come  upon  us,  we 
did  not  wish  to  be  barefooted. 

Our  flight  was  continued  until  sunset.  We  had  intended 
traveling  on  a  line  parallel  with  the  road,  but  found  it  necessary 
to  bear  southward  occasionally  to  avoid  crossing  open  fields. 
When  the  sun  had  gone  down  we  called  a  halt.  The  country 
was  very  rough  and  broken  where  we  halted;  heavy  woods  and 
brushy  undergrowth  were  all  around  us  on  all  the  hill-sides. 
We  took  refuge  in  a  thicket,  near  a  considerable  bluff.  No  sounds 
of  pursuers  could  be  heard;  every  thing  was  still.  We  rested 
well,  and  slept  a  little.  Our  feet  were  worsted  by  the  wetting 
they  had  received  and  our  subsequent  rapid  walking.  On  a  few 
scraps  of  meat  dipped  in  meal  we  made  a  scanty  supper.  We 
dared  not  build  a  fire  after  dark  or  we  would  have  made  some 
mush  and  taken  a  fuller  meal. 

Before  the  moon  arose  it  was  very  dark.     We  waited  half  an 


16  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

hour  or  more  for  its  appearance  above  the  horizon.  At  length 
its  light  shone  dimly  through  the  woods.  The  sky  was  a  little 
clouded  and  the  woods  were  dense,  but  the  moon  served  to  guide 
us  upon  our  course,  if  its  light  did  shine  imperfectly  and  at  in- 
tervals. We  gathered  our  things  and  started.  We  steered 
northward.  When  obliged  to  turn  aside,  or  vary  from  that 
course,  we  varied  to  the  west.  Many  difficulties  beset  us.  Our 
hurried  march  in  the  day  had  considerably  taxed  our  powers  of 
endurance;  our  rest  at  dark  was  brief,  only,  long  enough  for 
our  limbs  to  stiffen;  our  feet  were  sore;  we  were  hungry;  our 
hasty  meal  at  dark  had  not  sufficed.  It  was  the  first  we  had 
eaten  since  midnight  of  the  night  before,  on  getting  around 
Rocky  Mount  Court-House.  The  country  was  hilly;  we  got 
over  and  down  one  hill  only  to  begin  the  ascent  of  another; 
the  woods  were  dark,  and  logs  and  brush  obstructed  our  path- 
way and  impeded  our  progress.  We  persevered,  however,  and 
pressed  on.  One  of  our  party  went  in  advance  and  pushed  the 
brush  aside;  the  other  five  of  us  followed  just  behind  him,  in 
"close  order." 

Fully  an  hour  passed  before  we  emerged  from  the  brush  and 
woods  into  more  open  ground.  We  climbed  a  fence  and  crossed 
a  field.  On  getting  out  of  the  field  we  struck  a  road  running 
east  and  west.  We  followed  it  at  a  moderate  gait  until  we  had 
gone  a  mile,  when  we  reached  a  cross-road.  We  then  turned  to 
our  right  and  went  due  north.  On  going  two  miles  or  more  we 
called  a  halt.  We  were  much  fatigued;  nearly  worn  down,  in 
fact,  and,  besides,  we  were  faint  and  hungry.  The  road  we  were 
following  seemed  not  to  be  much  traveled.  We  had  passed  no 
house  since  dark.  We  had  stopped  on  the  road,  where  it  was 
winding  along  the  side  of  a  ridge,  which  was  heavily  wooded. 
We  determined  to  look  for  a  retreat  where  we  could  rest  awhile, 
build  a  fire,  and  make  some  mush.  We  left  the  road  and  went 
up  hill  west  of  it.  Soon  we  gained  the  top  of  the  hill  or  ridge. 
We  then  went  down  the  hill  on  its  western  slope,  and  in  the 
bushes  near  the  foot  of  it  we  halted.  The  noise  of  rippling  or 
running  waters  could  be  distinctly  heard.  Two  of  our  party 
took  our  canteen  and  bucket  and  went  to  fill  them.  While  they 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX   FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  47 

were  gone  we  built  a  fire.  A  blanket  was  unrolled  and  spread 
on  the  bushes  above  the  fire  to  partially  conceal  its  light.  Our 
bucket  was  then  made  three  times  full  of  mush.  Small,  thin 
slices  and  bits  of  meat  were  cut  off  and  put  in  the  mush  as  it 
was  cooking.  Soon  our  hunger  was  appeased,  and  our  weariness 
hung  not  so  heavily  upon  us.  We  put  up  our  things,  scattered 
our  fire,  sought  the  road,  and  resumed  our  journey. 

Near  midnight,  an'd  just  after  we  had  crossed  a  branch,  we 
were  startled  by  hearing  a  solitary  shot  in  the  woods.  We  im- 
mediately halted.  Seemingly  the  sound  of  the  shot  came  from 
a  point  not  very  far  ahead  of  us,  but  some  distance  to  our  left. 
Our  first  conjecture  was  that  we  were  in  the  vicinity  of  a  cavalry 
bivouac.  Two  or  three  of  our  party  thought  the  home  guards 
had  been  posted  on  the  roads,  and  were  about  to  hem  us  in. 
There  was  no  time  to  be  lost  in  parleying,  and  we  determined 
to  go  on  slowly  and  slyly.  Before  going  two  hundred  yards  we 
came  to  a  turn  in  the  road.  The  road  had  been  leading  us 
northward,  but  on  going  around  the  turn  it  led  us  west.  We 
again  halted,  thinking  it  was  possible  there  was  a  guard  on  the 
road,  as  it  led  in  the  direction  from  whence  the  sound  of  the 
shot  had  proceeded.  Trippe  proposed  going  on  a  few  paces  to 
see.  He  did  so.  We  followed  him  at  the  distance  of  fifty  or 
sixty  paces.  In  this  way  we  advanced  fully  half  a  mile,  when 
we  reached  a  point  where  the  road  passed  between  fields.  Trippe 
waited  until  we  came  up,  when  he  pronounced  the  road  clear,  as 
far  as  pickets  were  concerned. 

We  then  pushed  on,  and  discovered  we  were  about  passing  a 
house  on  the  left  of  the  road.  We  checked  our  speed  and  passed 
the  house  with  care  and  celerity.  When  we  had  got  about 
twenty  steps  beyond  the  house,  and  just  as  we  were  becoming 
careless  again,  the  dogs  began  a  lively  barking.  We  proceeded 
a  dozen  steps  further  when  we  noticed  the  sparks  of  a  fire  flying 
upward.  The  fire  was  about  twenty  steps  ahead  of  us,  on  the 
left  of  the  road.  It  was  near  the  corner  of  the  rail-fence,  where 
the  lane  terminated.  We  stopped  instantly,  but  said  nothing. 
We  watched  the  fire  closely  for  a  moment.  The  dogs  kept  up 
their  howling.  In  the  light  of  the  fire,  which  soon  blazed  up, 


48  A  STORY   OF  THE   WAR. 

we  distinctly  saw  several  covered  wagons  ahead  of  us  near  the 
road  side.  We  knew,  or  thought  at  least,  that  we  were  about 
running  into  a  supply  train.  We  hardly  knew  what  to  do.  The 
dogs  continued  barking  furiously,  and  would  soon  arouse  some- 
body, to  see  what  disturbed  them.  We  could  not  go  forward,  as 
the  guards,  or  teamsters,  with  the  train  would  discover  us.  We 
did  not  wish  to  go  back  by  the  house,  as  there  was  danger  of 
being  observed  by  persons  within,  or  about  it.  There  was  no 
time  for  deliberation.  We  climbed  the  rail-fence  to  our  right 
on  the  north  of  the  road.  We  were  careful  not  to  make  any 
noise;  although  the  dogs  made  hubbub  enough  to  drown  any 
noise  we  should  make. 

We  had  left  tracks  on  the  road,  and  found  on  getting  into 
the  field  that  its  surface  was  moist  and  impressible.  We  deter- 
mined to  make  a  trail  that  would  mislead  any  person  who  might 
have  the  curiosity  to  follow  us.  On  reaching  a  point  in  the  field 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  due  north  of  the  road  we  turned  east. 
In  that  direction  we  traveled  half  a  mile.  We  then  turned 
south  and  crossed  the  fence  at  the  corner  of  the  field.  On  get- 
ting into  the  road  we  followed  it  east  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
when  we  went  some  distance  in  a  south-east  course.  By  so  do- 
ing we  got  into  thick  woods  where  the  ground  was  covered  with 
leaves,  where  we  could  leave  only  very  indistinct  traces  behind 
us.  We  then  turned  and  traveled  directly  west,  keeping  parallel 
with  the  road,  and  a  little  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  south 
of  it.  The  dogs  at  the  house  still  kept  up  their  howling ;  and 
as  the  train  and  those  with  it  were  just  at  hand,  we  kept  off  at 
a  safe  distance.  The  shot  we  had  heard  an  hour  before,  we 
judged  had  been  fired  by  some  one  with  the  train. 

When  we  had  gone  far  enough,  in  a  western  direction,  to 
reach  a  point  directly  south  of  the  house,  where  the  dogs  were 
still  barking,  we  bore  considerably  to  our  right,  and  went  north- 
west. We  continued  in  that  direction  until  we  struck  the  road 
some  distance  west  of  the  wagon  train.  After  going  something 
more  than  a  mile  further  on  the  road,  in  a  direction  a  little 
north  of  west,  we  halted.  It  lacked  an  hour  or  more  of  being 
daylight,  but  as  we  were  very  tired,  having  traveled  many  miles 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  49 

in  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  we  determined  to  look  out  for  a 
secure  hiding-place  for  the  day.  We  accordingly  left  the  road 
and  penetrated  some  distance  into  the  woods  on  the  north  of  it. 
Just  after  crossing  a  small  branch  we  halted,  and  made  our  prep- 
arations for  a  refreshing  sleep.  We  fell  into  a  sound  slumber 
immediately  on  lying  down  on  our  bed. 

About  mid-day  we  awoke  and  found  ourselves  very  stiff  and 
sore  all  over.  We  felt  very  little  like  moving  about.  We  had 
pulled  off  our  shoes  on  lying  down,  and  on  getting  up  we  found 
our  feet  were  so  very  sore  that  we  could  hardly  get  them  on 
again.  The  sky  was  overcast  with  clouds,  threatening  snow. 
Our  stock  of  provisions  was  getting  very  low,  and  other  circum- 
stances seemed  to  conspire  in  making  the  woods  around  us  and 
the  prospect  before  us  quite  cheerless.  That  we  had  not  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  home  guards  was  the  only  circumstance 
that  afforded  us  consolation.  After  getting  our  shoes  on,  we  set 
about  building  a  fire.  We  went  to  the  branch  near  us  and 
washed  our  hands  and  faces;  afterward  feeling  some  better. 
Our  vessels  were  filled  with  water  at  the  branch,  to  be  used  in 
making  mush.  When  we  had-  dispatched  our  dinner  we  had 
some  meal  left,  also  a  little  salt,  but  no  meat.  The  meal  was 
emptied  from  the  pillow-slip  and  made  into  mush,  which,  with 
the  exception  of  the  last  bucket  full  made,  was  put  into  the 
pillow-slip.  The  last  mush  made  was  left  in  the  bucket.  When 
the  mush  became  cold  it  sliced  off  nicely,  and  was  ready  for  our 
midnight  meal. 

Shortly  after  noon  one  of  our  party  wandered  out  northward 
from  our  hiding-place  some  distance,  and  spied  a  man  engaged  in 
plowing  in  an  old  field.  It  was  early  in  the  season,  we  thought, 
for  plowing,  but  as  we  had  seen  plowing  near  Danville  in  Janu- 
ary, we  knew  it  was  nothing  unusual  for  that  country.  Suther- 
land and  I  went  out  and  lay  close  to  the  fence  which  inclosed 
the  field,  to  watch  the  man  who  was  plowing,  and  see  if  we 
could  determine  whether  he  was  white  or  black.  It  so  happened 
that  he  did  not  plow  on  out  to  the  fence  near  which  we  were 
hid,  as  a  strip  of  sod  or  grass  land  intervened  between  him  and 
the  fence.  We  were  somewhat  disappointed,  as  we  could  not 

4 


50  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR, 

make  out  at  that  distance  whether  the  man  was  white  or  black. 
If  we  had  been  assured  he  was  a  black  man,  we  would  have 
made  an  effort  to  procure  more  food. 

Near  the  close  of  the  day  we  went  to  the  branch  and  bathed 
our  feet  thoroughly,  hoping,  if  it  did  not  improve  them,  it  would 
keep  them  from  getting  sorer  than  they  were  already.  We  then 
lay  down  and  slept  about  an  hour,  and  on  waking  we  found  that 
our  blankets  and  the  ground  were  covered  with  snow  to  the 
depth  of  an  inch.  We  got  up  and  shook  the  snow  from  our 
blankets,  and  put  every  thing  in  order  for  the  night's  marching. 
Awhile  before  sunset  the  snow  ceased  falling,  the  clouds  began 
to  clear  away,  and  the  weather  was  perceptibly  cooler.  No 
clouds  obscured  the  sun  as  it  shed  its  last  rays  over  us  for  the 
day,  and  sank  from  view  in  the  west. 

Just  at  dark  we  left  our  hiding-place  and  went  directly  to 
the  road.  It  was  quite  dark,  as  the  moon  had  not  appeared; 
but  as  our  feet  were  sore,  we  could  only  advance  slowly  any  how, 
and  we  pushed  on.  In  the  road,  where  there  were  no  leaves,  the 
snow  had  melted,  making  the  walking  slippery  and  slavish. 
When  the  moon  arose  we  walked  at  the  side  of  the  road,  and 
got  along  some  better.  Early  in  the  night  Taylor  began  to  fall 
behind.  Sore  feet,  we  judged,  was  the  cause  of  his  slow  prog- 
ress. He  fell  behind  several  times,  and  we  waited  as  often  for 
him  to  come  up.  We  asked  him  no  questions,  only  supposing 
that  his  feet  were  sorer  than  our  own.  About  ten  o'clock,  or  a 
little  later  in  the  night,  we  struck  a  pike  running  north-east  and 
south-west.  The  road  we  had  been  following  did  not  cross  it. 
As  we  had  to  change  our  course,  and  as  Taylor  was  some  dis- 
tance behind,  we  waited  for  him  to  catch  up.  When  he  had 
caught  up  we  waited  awhile  longer  for  him  to  rest. 

On  renewing  our  travels  we  followed  the  pike  in  a  north-east 
course  toward  Lynchburg.  Before  going  very  far  on  the  pike, 
we  passed  one  house  on  the  left.  We  went  nearly  half  a  mile 
beyond  the  house,  when  we  discovered  an  obscure  road  leading 
westward.  We  changed  our  course,  as  we  wished  to  reach  and 
cross  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains  as  soon  as  possible.  Taylor  had 
kept  up  with  us  while  following  the  pike,  but  again  fell  behind 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX   FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  51 

on  leaving  it.  The  road  was  a  poor  one.  Its  clay  surface  had 
been  considerably  moistened  by  the  melting  snow,  late  in  the 
day  and  early  in  the  night.  Before  midnight  the  mud  began 
freezing,  and  it  stuck  tenaciously  to  our  shoes.  The  country 
was  rough  and  broken,  and  the  road  led  us  over  a  succession  of 
ridges  and  hollows.  In  breaking  the  frozen  crust  of  mud  our 
feet  were  continually  slipping  backward  or  forward,  or  sideways, 
as  we  went  up  and  down  the  hills,  making  our  march  extremely 
fatiguing  and  wearisome.  We  were  obliged  to  keep  the  road 
on  account  of  the  trees,  logs,  and  brush  near  it  on  either  side. 
Our  way,  however,  was  plain  before  us,  as  the  road  looked  black 
in  contrast  with  the  snowy  woods. 

We  trudged  on  in  the  difficult  and  lonely  way,  and,  though 
our  progress  was  slow,  Taylor  had  fallen  far  behind.  Near  mid- 
night we  were  on  the  point  of  stopping  to  eat  some  mush,  but 
concluded  to  move  on  slowly  for  awhile,  and  give  Taylor  a  chance 
to  catch  up  with  us  or  gain  on  us.  We  slackened  our  pace  con- 
siderably, and,  on  going  half  a  mile,  we  halted  at  the  road  side. 
Taylor  had  not  caught  up  with  us,  neither  was  he  in  sight  or 
hearing.  We  sat  on  a  log,  and  waited  patiently  for  his  approach. 
Several  minutes  passed  while  we  were  waiting.  We  took  the 
mush  from  our  bucket  and  cut  it  in  slices  ready  for  eating.  While 
so  doing  Taylor  came  dragging  himself  along  the  road.  We 
called  to  him,  and  he  turned  aside  to  join  us  in  the  woods.  He 
was  lame  and  weary.  On  reaching  us  he  sank  almost  exhausted 
to  the  ground,  sitting  in  the  snow  and  placing  his  back  against 
the  log  upon  which  we  sat.  We  made  no  inquiries  of  Taylor  as 
to  the  cause  of  his  lameness,  supposing  he  could  not  tell  us  more 
than  we  knew  already. 

One  or  two  observations  were  made  respecting  the  bad  con- 
dition of  the  road,  after  which  we  began  eating  our  midnight 
lunch.  When  we  had  finished  eating  we  gathered  our  things  and 
started.  Trippe  and  I  were  ahead,  and  had  reached  the  road 
and  gone  on  it  a  few  steps.  Wood  and  Sutherland  were  closely 
following  us.  Sutherland  looked  back  and  saw  Smith  coming, 
but  did  not  see  Taylor.  Sutherland  then  asked,  "Smith,  where 
is  Taylor?  an't  he  coming?"  Smith  answered,  "I  thought  he 


52  A   STORY  OF  THE   WAR. 

was  following  me;"  and  then  looked  behind  and  called  aloud, 
"Come  on,  Taylor."  Smith  not  understanding  Taylor's  reply, 
went  back  to  him.  On  being  asked  why  he  had  not  started, 
Taylor  said  he  was  unable  to  go  any  farther,  as  his  broken  leg 
had  failed  him.  Smith  at  once  called  to  us  to  come  back  to  the 
place  where  Taylor  was.  We  did  so.  It  was  painfully  apparent 
that  he  could  go  no  farther  that  night.  We  learned  for  the  first 
time  that  he  had  been  wounded  in  the  leg,  and  had  one  of  its 
bones  broken.  He  was  not  a  Chickamauga  prisoner,  but  had 
been  wounded  and  captured  at  or  near  Leesburg,  Virginia,  in  a 
cavalry  engagement,  early  in  July,  1863,  at  the  time  of  the  bat- 
tles of  Gettysburg,  Pennsylvania.  During  our  four  or  five  weeks' 
association  with  him  it  so  happened  we  had  not  learned  of  his 
wound. 

We  at  once  concluded  that  our  travels  for  that  night  were  al. 
an  end,  and  began  looking  around  for  a  place  in  which  to  lie  ovei 
until  the  following  night.  When  Taylor  heard  our  determina- 
tion he  objected,  saying  he  felt  sure  he  would  not  be  able  to  travel 
by  the  following  night,  and  might  not  be  able  to  renew  the  jour- 
ney for  a  week.  He  would  not  consent  that  we  should  remain 
with  him  until  the  next  night,  unless  he  knew  he  would  be  able 
to  go  on  with  us  by  that  time.  We  insisted  on  waiting  with  him 
as  long  as  that,  as  we  should  lose  only  three  hours'  time  by  so 
doing.  Taylor  still  objected,  saying  he  would  not  detain  us  <i 
single  hour,  and  if  we  failed  in  reaching  the  lines,  it  should  not, 
be  laid  to  his  charge.  We  determined  to  remain,  when  Taylor 
assured  us  he  could  not  travel  for  at  least  three  or  four  nights, 
and  was  unwilling  to  feel  himself  responsible  for  the  conse- 
quences that  might  ensue  from  so  long  a  detention  of  our  party. 
We  then  offered  to  divide  our  party,  to  leave  two  with  Taylor, 
and  let  the  other  three  go  on.  But  he  objected  to  this  proposal 
also,  saying  he  would  not  delay  a  single  ^>ne  of  us,  and  probably 
be  the  cause,  immediate  or  remote,  of  the  return  of  that  one  to 
prison.  He  would  rather  take  his  chances  of  ultimately  reach- 
ing the  lines  alone,  and  feel  clear  of  responsibility  for  any  acci- 
dent or  disaster  that  might  overtake  us  than  to  do  otherwise. 

We  had  offered  fairly,  as  we  thought,  and  concluding  Taylor 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  53 

knew  the  nature  and  extent  of  his  disability  much  better  than 
we  did,  we  determined  to  leave  the  case  to  him.  If  he  said  re- 
main, we  would  cheerfully  do  so ;  or  if  he  said  for  us  to  go  on 
and  leave  him  behind,  we  would  do  that  regretfully.  Taylor 
then  said  for  us  to  lose  no  time  on  his  account,  but  to  push  on 
to  the  Union  lines,  and  make  our  escape  good.  It  required  but 
a  few  moments  to  arrange  for  resuming  our  journey,  and  to  ad- 
vise Taylor  as  to  the  best  course  to  pursue;  to  say  to  him  the 
parting  good-by,  and  leave  him  behind.  The  mush  in  the  pillow- 
slip, all  the  provisions  we  had,  except  a  little  salt,  was  then 
taken  out  and  divided  into  six  parts.  The  largest  part  was  given 
to  Taylor.  The  other  five  parts  were  put  in  our  haversacks. 
Nearly  or  quite  half  of  the  scrip  on  hand  was  given  him,  as  he 
was  going  to  tarry  awhile  in  the  Confederacy,  and  might  use  it 
to  advantage.  A  portion  of  the  salt  was  also  given  him.  The 
canteen  which  had  been  used  by  our  party  so  far  on  the  trip, 
and  which  belonged  to  Taylor,  was  left  with  him.  He  had  a 
watch  and  a  supply  of  scrip  to  barter  for  food,  or  for  the  serv- 
ices of  a  guide,  to  conduct  him  to  the  lines,  or  both.  With 
these,  and  with  his  canteen  and  haversack,  we  left  him  alone  in 
the  woods,  wrapped  in  his  overcoat  and  blanket.  It  was  a  sad 
and  melancholy  scene  we  witnessed  in  parting  from  Taylor.  It 
was  painful  and  trying  to  us  to  shake  his  hand,  and  say  to  him 
"good-by."  Our  feelings  were  similar  to  those  occasioned  by 
the  fall  of  a  comrade  on  the  battle-field.  We  had  left  Taylor, 
and  were  getting  into  the  road  when  we  heard  him  say,  "  Com- 
pany G,  2d  Massachusetts  Cavalry,"  giving  his  address,  and 
asking  us  to  write  to  him  if  we  reached  the  lines.  We  each  of 
us  then  gave  him  the  name  of  the  company  and  regiment  to 
which  we  respectively  belonged,  so  that  he  might  write  to  us  if 
he  got  through  all  right.  , 

The  substance  of  the  advice  we  gave  to  Taylor  was  to  remain 
where  he  was  until  daylight,  at  which  time  he  could  move  to  a 
better  or  more  secure  hiding-place,  if  able  to  do  so,  where  he 
could  command  a  view  of  the  road,  and  see  persons  that  might 
pass  upon  it.  The  first  negro,  or  party  of  negroes,  he  saw  passing, 
if  no  whites  were  with  them,  he  was  to  hail,  and  beckon  them 


54  A  STOEY  OF  THE  WAR. 

to  him  and  make  his  condition  known,  and  get  them  to  harbor 
him,  or  take  him  to  some  house  where  he  could  be  harbored 
until  he  was  able  to  renew  his  journey.  If  he  saw  no  person 
pass  during  the  day,  he  was  to  go  in  the  evening  in  search  of  a 
habitation  where  assistance  might  be  given  him.  When  able  to 
travel,  he  was  to  secure,  if  possible,  the  services  of  a  guide,  to 
conduct  him  to  some  point  within  or  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
pickets  or  outposts  of  our  army.  He  could  reward  his  guide,  if 
fortunate  enough  to  secure  one,  with  his  watch  and  Confederate 
money. 

It  was  the  night  of  Friday,  February  26,  1864,  that  we 
left  Taylor  behind.  We  left  him  within  six  miles  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  Mountain,  at  a  point  between  eighty  and  one  hundred 
miles  south-west  of  Lynchburg,  Va.,  and  nearly  three  miles 
west  of  the  piue  leading  to  that  place.  We  must  have  left  him 
somewhere  near  the  boundary  line  between  Franklin  and  Bedford 
counties,  Va.,  in  the  north-west  corner  of  one,  or  in  the  south- 
east corner  of  the  other.  If  it  was  trying  to  us  to  part  with 
Taylor  and  leave  him,  it  must  have  put  his  resolution  and  self- 
denial  to  a  severe  test  to  persist  in  being  left  alone  in  his  crippled 
and  almost  helpless  condition.  On  stopping  he  was  warm,  as  the 
road  was  bad,  and  he  had  exerted  himself  to  catch  up  with  us. 
By  sitting  down  in  the  snow,  he  cooled  suddenly,  and  his  lame 
leg  became  stiff  and  useless.  His  condition  was  critical  and  un- 
enviable, as  he  was  unable  to  move  about  with  ease  or  comfort, 
and  his  supply  of  food  was  small  in  quantity  and  poor  in  quality. 
No  house  was  near  him.  We  had  not  passed  a  house  since 
leaving  the  pike.  The  weather  was  cold,  as  the  snow  and  mud 
was  freezing.  He  was  in  a  bleak  mountain  country  alone.  No 
friend  was  near  him.  We  had  been  his  friends  and  comrades, 
and  were  his  friends  still,  but  had  forsaken  him.  His  prospect 
was  cheerless.  His  desponding  heart  had  little  on  which  to 
predicate  a  hope.  He-  dreaded  to  meet  a  man  of  his  own  color, 
for  fear  of  meeting  an  enemy,  and  in  the  mountain  districts 
the  blacks  were  few.  The  woods  around  him  were  dreary,  al- 
though the  ground  was  covered  with  snow,  and  the  moon  shone 
brightly.  The  trees  with  their  leafless  branches  and  skeleton 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  55 

shadows  could  be  dimly  seen,  but  were  poor  companions  for  a 
maimed  and  wearied  traveler  in  an  enemy's  land.  It  was  a 
touching,  but  a  necessary  or  unavoidable  incident  of  our  journey 
to  leave  Taylor  behind  in  the  Winter,  and  in  the  wilderness,  as 
a  lonely  and  solitary  sentinel  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night. 
But  we  could  do  no  better,  as  our  supply  of  provisions  was  nearly 
exhausted,  and  we  could  not  recruit  it,  or  seek  assistance  for  him 
without  jeopardizing  his  safety  as  well  as  our  own.  So  we  left 
him  to  whatever  fate  might  fall  to  him  in  the  merciful  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence. 

I  have  never  heard  from  or  of  Taylor  to  this  date,  Decem- 
ber, 1869.  Whether  he  got  able  to  travel,  and  succeeded  in 
making  his  escape  from  the  Confederacy,  or  whether  he  was  re- 
captured and  returned  to  prison,  is  not  known  to  me.  He  may 
have  perished  from  starvation  where  we  left  him,  on  account  of 
inability  to  get  away  from  there. 


CHAPTER  III 

PROVISIONS  GONE— CROSS  THE  BLUK  RIDGE— SECURING  FOOD— GOING  THROUGH  BIG 
LICK — BAIN  AND  DARKNESS — WE  ARE  COMPELLED  TO  SEEK  SHELTER — LYING  OVER — 
THB  TOBACCO — ITS  OWNER — MORE  FOOD  LAID  IN — 0P  THE  VALLEY — STRIKE  FOR  THE 

ALtifcGHANJES — DIFFICULT    TRAVELING ROUGH     COUNTRY — WE     REACH      A     STREAM — 

TOO    WEARY    TO    FORD — FALL    BACK    TO    HIDE — MAKING    OUR    BED FALL   ASLEEP. 

HAVING  parted  with  Taylor,  our  travels  were  resumed 
through  the  later  hours  of  the  night.  Once  or  twice  in 
traveling  the  distance  of  four,  or  four  and  a  half  miles,  we  al- 
most concluded  to  return  to  him,  but  feared  disaster  might  come 
upon  us  if  we  turned  back.  It  soon  became  evident  that  day- 
break was  at  hand,  but  we  proceeded  a  mile  farther  before  turn- 
ing into  the  woods.  The  sun  was  just  rising  when  we  began 
making  our  bed,  for  the  27th  of  February,  in  a  place  surrounded 
by  woods  and  brush.  On  lying  down  we  fell  asleep.  We  awoke 
about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  Shortly  after  arousing  from 
our  slumbers,  we  eat  the  last  of  our  mush.  A  little  salt  was  all 


56  A   STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

re  had  left  of  the  supplies  we  had  received  from  our  negro 
mends  in  Henry  county.  When,  where,  and  how  our  next  sup- 
ply of  food  should  be  secured  we  did  not  know.  We  judged  we 
should  cross  the  mountain  during  the  approaching  night,  and  de- 
termined to  give  ourselves  no  concern  on  the  score  of  rations 
until  the  valley  on  the  other  side  was  reached. 

The  sad  event  of  the  previous  night  formed  the  subject  of  our 
conversation  for  the  evening.  "  It  would  n't  surprise  me  a  bit," 
said  Wood,  "if  Taylor  should  beat  us  to  the  lines  yet." 

"  He  may,"  said  Trippe,  "  if  he  lives  through  the  first  night 
or  two,  does  well,  and  is  lucky  enough  to  secure  the  services  of 
A  good  guide,  to  take  him  through  by  the  short  cuts." 

"  Our  lines  will  be  down  this  way  some  of  these  days,"  said 
ftmith. 

"  The  only  difiiculty  with  Taylor,"  remarked  Trippe,  "  will  be 
in  avoiding  Rebel  citizens  and  finding  a  true  Union  friend  to  care 
for  him  a  few  days." 

"  He  must  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  body  but  a  negro," 
said  Sutherland,  "  or  he 's  a  goner."  "  Boys,"  he  continued, 
"  supposing  it  should  become  necessary  for  us  to  separate  into 
two  squads,  how  '11  we  divide  ?" 

"Draw  cuts,"  answered  Wood. 

"  If  it  should  become  necessary  for  us  to  separate,"  remarked 
Trippe,  "  it  will  most  likely  be  under  such  circumstances  as  will 
forbid  drawing  cuts." 

"  Yes,  boys,"  answered  Wood,  "  we  '11  have  to  draw  cuts  now, 
and  have  the  thing  understood." 

Five  small  sticks  were  accordingly  prepared.  They  were  of 
two  different  lengths.  It  being  understood  how  the  division 
should  stand,  we  drew  cuts.  It  was  decided  that  Smith,  Wood, 
and  Sutherland  should  go  in  one  direction,  while  Trippe  and  I 
should  go  in  another.  We  determined,  however,  never  to  sepa- 
rate unless  no  other  alternative  would  answer,  and  to  push  on 
and  endeavor  to  reach  our  lines  together. 

At  sunset  we  began  arranging  our  things  for  journeying.  As 
soon  as  it  was  dark  we  sought  the  road,  and  on  reaching  it  we 
heard  voices.  We  retired  a  few  paces  into  the  bushes  and  waited 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  57 

until  a  half  dozen  or  more  persons,  mostly  if  not  all  colored,  had 
passed  by.  "Now,  boys,"  whispered  Wood,  as  the  women  and 
children  were  passing,  "  here  is  a  good  chance  to  get  something 
to  eat."  But  we  had  decided  to  cross  the  mountains  before 
looking  after  food,  and  allowed  the  opportunity  to  pass.  We 
then  set  out  on  our  ninth  night  of  travel,  and  had  gone  but  lit- 
tle more  than  a  mile  when  we  came  to  a  considerable  branch. 
We  crossed  it  with  but  little  trouble,  and  soon  after  passed  near 
a  house  on  the  road  whose  occupants  had  not  retired  for  the 
night.  We  got  by  the  house  without  attracting  attention,  or  at 
least  without  exciting  curiosity.  On  following  the  road  a  little 
further,  we  found  it  commenced  its  winding  ascent  of  the  mount- 
ain, passing  through  a  gap  near  the  boundary  line  between 
Franklin  and  Bedford  counties,  Va.  We  had  heard  before  leav- 
ing prison  that  the  Blue  Eidge  Mountains  were  infested  with 
bush-whackers.  We  had  a  wholesome  dread  of  these,  and  ad- 
vanced cautiously  up  the  road,  hoping,  if  there '  were  any,  we 
should  hear  or  see  them  before  they  should  hear  or  see  us. 

In  little  more  than  an  hour's  time  we  reached  the  highest 
point  in  the  gap,  over  which  the  road  passed.  We  met  with  no 
one  to  dispute  our  progress,  and  the  descent  of  the  western  slope 
was  immediately  commenced.  We  had  followed  the  road  but  a 
short  distance  down  the  mountain-side,  when,  on  making  a  turn 
in  the  road,  we  saw  a  light  ahead,  apparently  about  one  hundred 
yards  distant  from  us.  Judging  it  to  be  the  light  of  a  torch,  or 
small  fire,  we  halted,  and,  on  doing  so,  we  heard  voices  engaged 
in  conversation.  Trippe  at  once  proposed  going  ahead  alone  a 
few  yards  to  see  what  might  be  seen.  We  consented,  and  he  did 
so.  A  few  minutes  of  intense  anxiety  to  us  passed,  as  we  im- 
agined the  reports  concerning  bush-whackers  were  about  to  be 
verified.  Before  Trippe  returned  we  heard  a  door  shut,  the  fire 
or  light  at  the  same  time  disappearing.  We  then  knew  there 
was  a  house,  or  hut  of  some  kind,  near  the  road,  not  far  from 
us;  but  of  the  number  and  character  of  its  occupants  we  were 
not  so  well  informed. 

On  coming  back  to  us  Trippe  reported  a  house  down  there, 
and  the  light  we  had  seen  was  the  light  of  a  fire  in  the  house. 


58  A  STOEY  OF  THE  WAR. 

Trippe  said,  further,  that  some  one  was  just  leaving  the  house, 
and,  as  soon  as  that  person  had  started  off  down  the  road,  the 
conversation  ceased,  and  the  door  of  the  house  was  closed.  We 
waited  a  few  minutes  for  the  folks  in  the  house  to  get  to  sleep, 
and  for  the  person  on  the  road  ahead  of  us  to  get  out  of  our 
way,  when  we  again  started  forward.  On  coming  to  the  house 
we  found  it  a  very  small  one,  situated  within  a  few  steps  of  the 
road.  Passing  it  without  discovery,  we  slowly  walked  on,  and  in 
due  time  reached  the  valley  below. 

Near  the  foot  or  base  of  the  ridge  was  what  appeared  to  be 
a  considerable  stream  of  water;  but  on  reaching  it  we  found  it 
to  be  more  wide  than  deep.  We  went  a  short  distance  down 
stream  and  found  four  foot  logs,  from  sixteen  to  twenty  feet  long, 
extending  across  the  stream.  On  these  we  crossed,  and  on  reach- 
ing the  opposite  side  we  halted  for  awhile  to  rest  before  proceed- 
ing to  the  road. 

"If  we  only  had  some  meat  and  bread,"  said  Smith,  "now 
would  be  a  good  time  to  eat  it." 

"This  would  be  a  good  place,  too,"  added  Sutherland,  "as 
water  is  handy." 

"  I  guess  we  would  n't  be  particular  as  to  the  place,"  observed 
Smith,  "  if  we  only  had  something  to  eat." 

Being  reminded  of  the  fact  that  we  were  out  of  rations  we 
resolved  to  try  our  luck  at  the  first  house  that  came  in  our  way. 
We  were  not  long  in  reaching  one,  probably  not  more  than  half 
an  hour.  As  we  had  crossed  the  mountain  without  difficulty ; 
as  we  felt  glad  we  had  not  met  with  guerrillas — felt  considerably 
hungry,  and  were,  withal,  much  emboldened,  we  were  not  over- 
cautious in  our  movements.  Each  of  our  party  of  five  entered 
the  yard  through  the  gate  in  front,  and  on  reaching  the  house — 
an  old  two-story  frame  house,  unpainted — we  rapped  violently  at 
the  front  door.  There  was  no  answer  from  within.  We  called 
and  rapped  repeatedly,  but  with  the  same  results.  We  then 
passed  around  the  house  to  its  south  side,  where  we  found  another 
door.  Sutherland  knocked  loudly  on  it,  but  no  response  came. 
He  then  put  his  mouth  to  the  string-hole  and  asked,  "Is  any 
body  at  home?" 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  59 

A  man  inside  answered,  in  a  tone  of  voice  indicating  fright, 
"  I  guess  there  's  somebody  about." 

"Why  don't  you  get  up,  then?"  asked  Sutherland.  "No- 
body 's  going  to  hurt  you." 

"WJiat  do  you  want?"  inquired  the  man. 

"  We  want  something  to  eat,  and  want  you  to  get  up  and  set 
about  getting  it  forthwith,"  said  Sutherland.  He  refused  to  even 
get  out  of  bed,  whereupon  Sutherland  demanded,  "  Shall  we  burst 
your  door  down?"  and  Wood  .added,  "and  come  in  and  burst 
your  noggin?" 

The  man  said,  "That  rests  with  you,"  and  inquired,  "Who 
are  you,  and  where  are  you  going?" 

"We  are  soldiers  going  to  Rocky  Mount  Gourt-House," 
Sutherland  answered. 

"Go  on  over  the  mountain,  and  you  will  be  fed  in  the  morn- 
ing," returned  the  man. 

Preferring  to  risk  our  chances  at  the  next  house  to  doing  any 
very  rash  or  violent  acts,  we  left  this  one,  telling  the  man  he 
showed  a  very  poor  quality  of  patriotism. 

"If  it  was  any  other  time,  if  it  twas  daylight,  I  might  do 
something  for  you." 

"We  do  n't  have  to  stand  picket  in  the  night-time;  we  don't 
have  to  march,  skirmish,  and  frequently  fight  in  the  night-time, 
I  suppose  ?"  retorted  Sutherland,  in  a  very  unamiable  voice. 

"And  skedaddle  in  the  night-time  from  such  rusty  Butter- 
nuts as  you  are,"  added  Smith,  in  a  tone  just  loud  enough  not 
to  be  heard  by  the  man,  as  we  were  withdrawing  from  the  yard. 

We  passed  out  of  the  yard  through  the  gate  to  the  road  as 
quickly  as  we  could,  intending  to  hurry  on  our  way.  As  Suther- 
land closed  the  gate  he  threatened  the  man  with,  "  We  shall  re- 
port you  when  we  get  to  Kooky  Mount,  mark  that." 

On  starting  forward  on  the  road  Wood  observed,  "We  com- 
menced too  heavy  on  the  gentleman :  we  got  him  so  badly  scared 
he  did  n't  know  what  to  do,  or  how  to  do  it." 

We  kept  up  our  conversation,  dwelling  chiefly  on  the  causes, 
real  and  supposed,  of  our  failure  in  procuring  food,  and  of  the 
method  to  be  resorted  to  in  supplying  our  necessities.  It  was 


60  A  STORY   OF  THE   WAR. 

agreed  that  Wood  and  I  should  try  our  hands  at  the  next  house. 
It  was  after  midnight,  and  should  we  not  reach  the  next  house 
soon  we  decided  not  to  disturb  its  inmates,  as  we  must  have  time 
to  get  out  of  reach  after  so  doing  before  hiding  for  the  day. 

In  a  few  moments  we  halted  in  front  of  a  house  on  the  south 
of  the  road  at  a  distance  of  sixty  or  seventy  yards  from  it. 
Wood  and  I  entered  the  yard  and  approached  a  door  in  the  one- 
story  part  of  the  house,  supposing  the  darkies 'slept  there.  On 
knocking  slightly  at  the  door,  and  hearing  no  answer,  we  jerked 
the  latch  string  once  or  twice.  A  voice  inside — which  was  un- 
doubtedly that  of  an  elderly  white  person — remonstrated  strongly 
against  being  disturbed  at  so  late  an  hour.  Wood  seeing  the 
timoke-house  a  few  steps  to  his  left,  went  to  examine  it,  and 
proceeded  from  thence  to  the  yard  south  of  the  house. 

At  the  same  time  I  stepped  upon  the  porch  in  front  of  the 
iwo-story  part  of  the  house,  and  walked  on  it  until  I  discovered 
a  pair  of  steps  or  stairs.  On  going  up  the  steps  I  found  the 
porch  had  a  second  story  also.  Just  at  the  top  of  the  steps 
was  a  doorway  to  the  second  story  of  the  main  building.  I 
found  the  door  fastened,  when  I  called  out,  asking  if  any  one 
was  inside.  A  voice,  plainly  that  of  a  negro,  answered  there  was. 
I  told  him  to  get  up,  and  come  out  doors,  as  there  were  some 
talks  at  the  road  who  would  like  very  much  to  see  him.  The 
flegro  declined,  saying,  "  You  can  't  come  dat  game  on  dis  chile  : 
'se  not  coming  out  dar." 

"  Get  out  of  bed  and  come  to  the  string  hole,"  said  I,  "I 
want  to  speak  to  you."  He  did  so,  when  I  said,  "  Put  your  ear 
to  the  string-hole."  He  complied;  and  in  a  loud,  distinct  whis- 
per, I  pronounced  the  word  "  Yankees."  As  soon  as  the  negro 
could  draw  on  his  clothing,  the  bar  of  the  door  came  down  and 
he  and  I  descended  the  steps  into  the  yard. 

On  seeing  us,  Wood  approached,  saying  to  the  negro,  "  Where 
did  you  come  from  ?" 

"Ise  from  Knoxville,"  was  the  answer. 

"But  just  now,  where  did  you  come  from  just  now?"  asked 
Wood. 

"  From  up  in  the  loft,"  was  the  negroxs  reply. 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  61 

"  Come  out  to  the  road,  old  fellow,"  said  I,  "  there  'a  some 
more  Yankees  out  there." 

"Lord,  massa!  golly!  dat  so?"  ejaculated  the  astonished 
negro. 

We  then  went  to  the  road  accompanied  by  the  negro.  On 
rejoining  Trippe,  Smith,  and  Sutherland,  at  the  point  where  we 
had  left  them,  the  last  named,  on  seeing  the  negro,  remarked, 
"  You  do  n't  expect  us  to  eat  that  fellow,  do  you  ?"  . 

We  lost  no  time  in 'telling  the  negro  what  was  wanting;  that 
we  were  hungry  and  had  no  provisions.  The  negro  said  the 
cellar  and  smoke-house  were  locked,  and  the  old  master  had  the 
keys.  We  asked  him  how  soon  he  could  get  something  for  us  to 
eat.  He  replied,  "In  the  mornin',  'fore  massa  and  mistress  gits 
up." 

"  How  about  the  keys;  don't  the  whites  get  up  and  unlock  ?" 

"  No,  sah  ;  we  gits  de  keys,  onfastens,  and  gits  breakfast  'foro 
de  white  folks  gits  out  o'  bed,"  replied  the  negro. 

On  ascertaining  beyond  doubt  that  provisions  would  be  fur- 
nished us  in  the  morning,  we  had  the  negro  conduct  us  to  a  safe 
hiding-place  for  the  day,  which  was  near  at  hand.  He  took  u-i 
to  a  secure  retreat  in  the  midst  of  a  large  grove  of  heavy  oak 
timber  situated  about  a  mile  from  the  house,  on  the  north  of  tho 
road.  In  all  directions  from  our  hiding-place  for  the  day — Sun- 
day, February  28th — were  open  fields.  The  woods  or  grove  wo 
were  in  covered  three  or  four  hundred  acres  of  land.  Our  camp 
for  the  day  was  close  to  a  rivulet,  and  was  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  tall  dead  grass;  and  a  little  further  from  us  were 
numerous  small  trees  and  bushes.  The  negro  told  us  he  would 
fetch  us  breakfast  by  ten  o'clock,  and  then  hurried  home. 

It  was  an  hour  or  more  before  day  when  we  made  our  usual 
preparations  for  sleep.  Soon  after  lying  down  we  were  lost  in 
slumber.  Near  nine  o'clock,  A.  M.,  we  awoke  from  our  slumbers 
and  got  up  and  washed  our  faces  at  the  rivulet.  Our  toilet  com- 
pleted, we  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the  appearance  of  our  negro 
friend,  with  a  small  basket  of  eatables,  a  pitcher  of  milk,  and  a 
mug  of  molasses.  We  fared  sumptuously  on  wheat  cakes,  fried 
bacon,  potatoes,  molasses,  and  milk.  When  we  had  finished  our 


62  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

meal  the  negro  took  the  molasses  and  milk  pitchers  in  his  basket 
and  went  homeward.  "While  eating  we  learned  from  the  negro 
that  we  were  in  Koanoke  county,  and  that  the  nearest  town  on 
the  road  we  expected  to  travel  was  Big  Lick,  a  station  on  the 
East  Tennessee  and  Virginia  Railroad. 

Shortly  after  noon  the  negro  came  out  and  talked  quite  a 
while  with  us.  He  wished  to  know  when  we  would  have  another 
meal  brought  out.  We  expressed  our  willingness  to  receive 
another  meal  at  any  time  before  sunset.  We  asked  the  negro 
how  much  provision  he  could  furnish  us  to  carry  with  us.  He 
replied  that  he  had  not  a  good  chance  in  day-time  to  get  at  the 
meat,  flour,  and  potatoes,  without  being  seen  by  his  master  or 
mistress,  and  at  night  he  had  no  chance  at  all  to  secure  any 
thing,  as  the  cellar  and  smoke-house  were  always  locked  at  dark 
by  the  whites,  who  kept  the  keys  until  morning. 

The  man  on  whose  provision  we  were  subsisting  was  named 
Schooler,  or  Schuyler.  Being  an  original  secessionist,  he  left 
Knoxville,  Tennessee,  and  settled  in  Roanoke  county,  Virginia, 
where  he  would  be  less  troubled  with  Federal  troops.  The  negro 
had  also  lived  in  Knoxville,  and  had  before  seen  Yankee  soldiers. 
When  he  left  us  he  went  home,  and  soon  returned  with  another 
supply  of  food  for  our  present  consumption.  While  we  were  eat- 
ing, the  negro  informed  us  that  Schooler,  his  master,  had  seen  the 
man  at  whose  house  we  had  attempted  to  get  rations  on  the  pre- 
vious night.  The  man  told  Schooler  of  the  demonstrations  we 
had  made  at  his  house  before  leaving  it  to  go  on  over  the  mount- 
ain. Schooler  in  turn  told  the  man  that  he,  too,  had  been  in- 
terrupted during  the  night,  but  -the  disturbers  of  his  sleep  had 
done  no  harm,  and  gone  on,  he  knew  not  where. 

Our  supper  finished,  we  had  an  understanding  with  the  negro 
as  to  the  place  where  we  should  receive  the  corn  and  meat.  He 
then  left  us,  and  we  rolled  up  our  blankets  and  made  other  need- 
ful preparations  for  our  tenth  night's  travel.  Just  at  dark  we 
started  for  the  point  designated  to  receive  what  provisions  our 
negro  host  could  provide  for  us.  As  we  found  him  there  with 
the  corn  and  meat,  we  were  not  long  delayed.  We  were  told  it 
was  seven  miles  to  Big  Lick,  and  that  Salem  Court-House  was 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  63 

nine  miles  west  of  that  place.  I  gave  the  negro  one  of  my 
blouses  as  a  slight  compensation  for  his  services  to  us,  and  as  a 
token  of  remembrance.  We  thanked  the  negro  heartily  for  be- 
friending us  in  the  hour  of  need,  and  then  put  the  corn,  which 
•was  shelled,  in  our  haversacks,  and  the  meat  in  our  pillow-slip, 
and  started  for  the  road,  accompanied  that  far  by  the  negro. 

On  reaching  the  road  we  bade  our  negro  friend  farewell  and 
left  him.  We  found  the  road  better  than  we  expected,  and 
pushed  forward  rapidly,  hoping  to  get  around  Big  Lick  by  mid- 
night. We  had  thought  of  bearing  to  our  right  and  passing 
east  of  the  place.  As  soon  as  we  thought  we  had  gone  six  miles 
we  saw  a  few  small  houses  not  far  ahead  of  us,  and  concluded  to 
pass  them  before  commencing  our  circuit  around  the  town. 
When  we  were  just  opposite  the  first  house,  Wood  supposed  it  to 
be  the  domicile  of  a  negro  family,  and  went  to  the  door,  opened 
it,  and  asked  how  far  it  was  to  Big  Lick.  "You  are  there 
now,"  was  the  answer  given.  Closing  the  door  without  asking 
any  more  questions,  Wood  hastily  rejoined  us  at  the  road. 

On  finding  we  were  in  town  we  pushed  on  through  it,  walk- 
ing silently  and  briskly.  Near  the  railroad  depot  we  halted, 
and  after  consulting  briefly  concluded  to  leave  the  road,  so  as  to 
elude  pursuers,  fearing  the  man  we  had  inquired  of  might  be  a 
white  Rebel,  and  might  collect  a  party  to  look  after  us  in  the 
morning.  After  leaving  the  road  we  reached  in  a  few  minutes' 
time  the  railroad  bridge.  We  passed  under  the  bridge,  walking 
partly  in  the  waters  of  the  little  stream  which  it  spanned  until 
we  gained  the  woods  north  of  the  railroad.  We  then  traveled 
due  northward  until  the  sky  became  cloudy,  when  it  grew  much 
darker,  and  we  found  great  difficulty  in  making  our  way  through 
strange  woods,  with  no  road  to  guide  us. 

Before  morning  it  began  raining,  and  the  night  became  black 
and  dismal  in  its  last  hours.  We  could  scarcely  proceed,  but 
we  kept  on  the  move.  Just  at  daylight  we  came  to  a  road  run- 
ning east  and  west.  It  seemed  to  be  a  very  public  one.  As  it 
was  raining  hard  we  thought  we  should  not  be  seen,  and  we 
crossed  the  road  and  pushed  on  northward  something  more  than 
a  mile,  when  we  halted  in  the  midst  of  a  considerable  forest  of 


64  A  STORY  OP  THE  WAR. 

pines.  Through  this  forest  was  a  string  of  rail-fence,  and  as  it 
was  raining  hard,  so  that  we  could  not  make  our  bed  down  on 
the  ground,  we  placed  rails  across  from  one  panel  to  another,  on 
which  we  sat  with  our  coats  and  blankets  disposed  about  us  so 
as  to  shed  the  water  off  as  much  as  possible.  In  this  manner 
we  occupied  two  corners  of  the  fence;  three  of  us  in  one  corner 
and  two  in  the  other. 

Near  noon  we  were  compelled  by  the  severity  of  the  storm 
to  seek  shelter.  We  started  and  kept  close  *to  the  fence  on  its 
north  side,  going  in  an  easterly  direction.  In  a  few  minutes  we 
came  to  another  fence,  running  north  through  open  fields.  We 
changed  our  course,  and  followed  it  until  we  came  to  a  branch 
running  in  a  south-east  course.  As  the  ground  was  much  lower 
near  the  branch  we  could  follow  it  and  at  the  same  time  be* 
screened  from  view.  Soon  we  came  in  sight  of  a  lone  building 
to  our  left  a  short  distance,  in  the  edge  of  the  woods.  We  went 
directly  to  it,  and  found  it  to  be  a  tobacco-house.  In  it  we 
found  shelter  from  the  rain,  as  the  roof  was  good.  We  then 
took  off  our  coats  and  blankets,  and  wrung  the  water  from  them. 
As  there  was  a  lot  of  corn-blades  tied  in  bundles  stacked  in  one 
corner  of  the  room,  we  soon  had  a  good  resting-place.  A  small 
lot  of  tobacco  leaves,  hanging  above  our  heads,  soon  attracted 
our  attention,  when  the  following  conversation  took  place: 

"There's  some  tobacco,"  said  Smith.  "I'll  bet  there  will 
be  somebody  out  here  before  night  to  look  at  it." 

"Not  while  it  rains  this  way,"  said  Trippe. 

"  Well,  let  them  come,"  said  Wood,  "  it  belongs  to  nobody 
but  a  darkie,  any  how." 

"And  when  he  comes  out  here  we  '11  only  have  him  to  fur- 
nish us  with  more  rations,"  said  Sutherland. 

"  I  'm  only  afraid  he  won't  come,"  added  Trippe. 

There  was  no  floor  in  the  tobacco-house,  and  we  cleared  the 
corn-blades  and  straw  from  the  center  and  built  a  fire.  For 
fuel  we  used  tobacco  sticks,  of  which  there  was  a  large  quantity 
piled  up  in  a  corner  of  the  building.  After  burning  enough 
sticks  to  make  sufficient  coals  and  ashes  for  the  purpose,  we 
went  to  parching  corn.  This  we  did  by  scattering  the  corn  near 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  65 

the  fire  and  raking  hot  ashes  and  coals  over  it.  When  the  corn 
was  parched  sufficiently,  we  raked  it  from  the  ashes  with  small 
sticks.  After  eating  all  we  wished  of  parched  corn  and  broiled 
meat,  we  parched  a  lot  of  corn  for  future  use. 

The  rain  continued  falling,  and  the  day  was  far  spent,  when 
we  came  to  the  conclusion  we  should  be  compelled  to  lie  over  for 
the  approaching  night — February  29th.  At  dark  we  stretched 
our  blankets  on  sticks  around  the  fire,  for  the  twofold  purpose  of 
drying  them  and  concealing  the  fire.  Soon  we  were  obliged  to 
allow  the  fire  to  go  down,  as  its  light  shone  against  the  roof  and 
through  the  cracks  of  the  building  between  the  logs.  We  had 
seen  but  one  house  during  the  evening  from  where  we  were,  and 
that  was  away  some  distance  to  the  north  of  us.  But  for  fear 
.somebody  would  be  passing,  and  see  the  light  of  our  fire,  and 
thus  discover  us,  and  publish  the  fact  of  our  presence  in  the 
vicinity,  we  put  it  out  entirely.  Becoming  reconciled  to  the 
necessity  of  stopping  over  for  the  night  and  following  day,  we 
thought  we  would  make  the  best  of  it,  and  rest,  and  recuperate 
as  much  as  possible  in  that  time.  So,  taking  time  and  pains, 
and  a  goodly  quantity  of  corn-blades,  we  made  us  a  good  bed. 
A  roof  over  our  heads  and  the  pelting  rain-storm  without  were 
conducive  to  sleep,  and  the  night  was  passed  in  quiet  and  re- 
pose. 

We  waked  up  shortly  after  daylight  in  the  morning,  but  did 
not  get  out  of  bed  until  about  eight  o'clock,  A.  M.  The  rain 
had  ceased,  but  clouds  still  overspread  the  sky,  causing  us  to 
feel  doubtful  about  getting  off  even  that  night.  We  went  out 
one  at  a  time  to  the  pools  of  water,  and  washed  our  hands  and 
faces.  Soon  after  we  built  a  fire  and  began  parching  corn,  and* 
broiling  meat  for  breakfast  and  dinner.  While  thus  engaged, 
Sutherland,  looking  through  a  crack  between  logs,  espied  an  old 
negro  approaching.  As  he  was  alone  he  gave  us  no  concern, 
and  we  were  not  averse  to  his  coming.  Approaching  nearer  and 
nearer  the  building,  the  old  negro  finally  came  upon  our  trail 
and  noticed  our  tracks.  He  followed  them  a  few  steps,  when, 
discovering  they  led  to  the  tobacco-house,  he  came  to  a  halt. 
He  watched  the  house  closely  for  a  moment  or  two,  when  hear- 

s 


66  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

ing  or  seeing  us,  he  turned  to  go  back.  Sutherland  opened  the 
door  and  said,  "  Hullo,  old  man  !  that  '11  never  do ;  come  in  here, 
we  '11  not  hurt  you." 

The  old  man  turned  about,  and  after  further  entreaty  ap- 
proached the  house  and  entered  it.  He  had  come  out  to  examine 
his  tobacco.  He  was  well  stricken  in  years,  being  ninety  years 
of  age,  having  children,  grandchildren,  and  great  grandchildren. 
On  account  of  his  age  he  was  slow  of  speech  and  'comprehen- 
sion. We  had  trouble  in  getting  him  to  understand  who  and 
what  we  were,  and  the  situation  in  which  we  were  placed.  He 
did  not  seem,  at  first,  to  correctly  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
term  Yankee,  but  soon  came  to  it,  inquiring,  "  Is  you  uns  some 
of  them  fellers  that 's  penned  up  in  the  'backer-houses  in  Rich- 
mond ?"  We  answered  that  we  were.  We  found  it  necessary 
to  impress  on  his  mind  the  necessity  of  keeping  secret  from  the 
whites  the  fact  of  our  presence  in  the  country.  Our  need  of 
procuring  provisions  from  time  to  time  was  also  explained  to  the 
old  man.  We  urged  the  old  man  to  either  bring  or  send  us 
some  meat  of  some  kind,  if  nothing  else,  and  to  have  it  at  t*he 
tobacco-house  by  sunset.  He  promised  to  do  so,  and  shortly 
after  examining  and  arranging  his  tobacco,  he  went  slowly  on 
his  way  home.  We  finished  our  breakfast,  and  continued  parch- 
ing corn  for  awhile.  A  little  before  noon  we  laid-ourselves  down, 
and  slept  until  about  three  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

On  getting  up  we  finished  parching  corn,  and  then  all  the 
provisions  we  had  with  us  were  ready  for  eating.  When  we  first 
got  up  the  sky  was  partially  clear,  and  by  sunset  it  was  cloud- 
less. Just  after  sunset  the  old  negro  arrived  with  some  six  or 
eight  pounds  of  meat,  mostly  boiled  beef,  the  remainder  being  a 
small  piece  of  side  meat.  A  couple  of  corn-dodgers  were  also 
furnished  us,  which  we  set  apart  for  our  midnight  meal.  Hav- 
ing got  our  baggage,  quartermaster  and  commissary  stores,  ready 
for  the  trip,  we  expressed  our  obligations  to  the  aged  negro  who 
had  befriended  us,  and  bade  him  good-by.  He  then  started 
home,  and  soon  after  we  set  out  on  our  eleventh  night's  journey, 
March  1,  1864. 

Finding  the  ground  soft  and  well  saturated  with  water,  we 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDEEAL  PRISONERS.  67 

thought  we  should  do  well  if  we  trudged  through  eight  or  ten 
miles  that  night.  On  reaching  the  road,  which  had  been  pointed 
out  to  us  by  the  negro,  we  found  the  walking  much  better  than 
we  expected,  as  the  water  could  not  so  easily  penetrate  its  hard 
surface.  In  a  short  time  we  passed  the  house  where  lived  the 
owner  of  the  plantation  to  which  the  tobacco-house  in  which  we 
had  be«n  sheltering  belonged.  The  house  was  near  the  road, 
and  the  lights  in  it  were  burning  brightly.  While  we  were 
passing  the  house  the  dogs  began  a  lively  barking,  and  kept  it 
up  until  we  had  gone  some  distance,  and  crossed  a  creek,  when 
we  heard  no  more  of  them.  Near  midnight  we  halted  at  the 
road  side  amid  a  cluster  of  small  trees,  and  eat  some  beef  and 
corn-bread. 

We  soon  resumed  our  travels.  As  we  could  not  walk  very 
rapidly,  owing  to  the  condition  of  the  road,  we  put  in  the  whole 
time  until  day-break,  so  that  we  could  have  it  to  say  that  we 
were  at  least  eight  or  ten  miles  nearer  our  goal  than  when  set- 
ting out.  The  road  we  were  traveling  bore  northward  in  its 
general  direction,  but  as  the  country  on  either  side  was  covered 
with  unfenced  woods,  it  frequently  deviated  from  its  general 
course.  At  length  day-break  came,  and  we  went  to  the  left  of 
the  road  in  search  of  a  secure  hiding-place  for  the  day,  March 
2,  1864. 

The  distance  gone  over  during  the  night  had  not  been  more 
than  eleven  miles,  or  twelve  at  the  furthest,  but  we  were  that 
distance  further  north,  which  was  a  gratifying  feature  of  the 
night's  journey.  The  ground  being  yet  very  damp,  we  were 
compelled  to  seek  an  open  space  in  which  to  make  our  bed,  and 
a  quantity  of  brush  and  leaves  on  which  to  make  it,  so  that  our 
bedding  should  not  get  damp  or  muddy.  A  suitable  hiding- 
place  having  been  found,  we  collected  leaves  and  brush  from  the 
adjacent  woods,  and  made  our  bed  on  them,  and  retired  to  sleep 
for  the  day.  We  went  about  a  mile  from  the  road  before  locat- 
ing our  camp.  It  was  further  than  may  have  been  necessary, 
as  the  road  was  not  a  very  public  one,  judging  from  appearances, 
and  the  country  was  very  sparsely  settled. 

Some  time  in  the  evening  we  awoke  and  got  up,  finding  the 


68  A  STORY  OF   THE   WAR. 

sky  clear,  and  the  weather  mild  for  the  time  of  year.  We  found 
we  had  not  stopped  convenient  to  water,  but  on  looking  around 
a  little  we  found  water  not  far  off  sufficient  for  our  needs.  As 
we  had  no  use  for  fire  we  built  none,  but  made  a  meal  on  parched 
corn  and  beef,  and  quietly  awaited  the  approach  of  night.  The 
evening  was  spent  in  conversation,  dwelling  chiefly  on  our  trip, 
past  and  prospective.  We  talked  of  things  that  had  taken  place, 
which,  if  we  had  them  to  do  over  again,  we  should  do  differently ; 
of  some  fork  of  the  road  or  cross-road,  where,  if  we  were  only 
there  again,  we  would  take  a  different  course.  Sometimes  we 
would  imagine  certain  things  to  happen  us,  and  decide  in  our 
minds  what  we  should  do,  should  the  event  actually  transpire. 
Our  minds  seemed  always  occupied,  either  with  thoughts  and  re- 
flections on  the  journey,  so  far  as  completed,  or  with  plans  and 
expedients  for  the  journey  yet  before  us. 

At  dark'  our  luggage  was  fitted  up  in  readiness  for  starting 
out  on  the  twelfth  night  of  our  travels,  being  the  thirteenth  night 
out.  In  a  half  hour's  time  we  were  on  the  road,  wending  our 
way  northward.  We  found  the  road  had  improved  under  the 
day's  sunshine,  and  we  were  enabled  to  make  better  progress  than 
we  had  made  on  the  previous  night.  On  coming  to  a  cross-roa  d 
near  midnight  we  stopped  a  few  minutes  to  eat  a  'little  and  con- 
sult as  to  the  course  to  take,  north  or  west.  It  was  evident  that, 
no  matter  which  course  we  took,  we  should  soon  reach  the  first 
ranges  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains.  As  we  had  previously  de- 
termined to  travel  in  day-time  across  the  ridges,  gorges,  valleys, 
and  barren  wastes  of  those  mountains,  we  thought  we  would  turn 
west  and  reverse,  as  soon  as  possible,  the  order  of  our  times  of 
sleep  and  travel,  sleeping  at  night  and  traveling  in  day-time. 
We  accordingly  turned  our  faces  to  the  west.  By  so  doing  we 
did  not  reach  the  mountains  as  soon  as  we  should  have  done  had 
we  continued  in  the  northward  course. 

We  spent  another  night  and  day,  March  3,  1864,  in  the 
valley  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  Alleghany  Mountains.  Noth- 
ing deserving  of  particular  notice  transpired  during  that  day. 
An  hour  or  more  before  day,  on  the  early  morning  of  March  4th, 
we  came  to  a  considerable  stream,  washing  the  base  of  one  of 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  69 

the  principal  ridges  of  the  Alleghanies.  We  had  been  traveling 
the  greater  part  of  the  night  over  a  very  rough  and  hilly  road, 
and  were  getting  tired  and  sleepy.  As  we  expected  to  begin 
traveling  in  day-time  over  the  mountains  on  the  day  then  ap- 
proaching, in  accordance  with  our  previous  programme,  we  deter- 
mined not  to  cross  the  stream  that  night,  or  morning  rather,  and 
followed  the  road  back  a  short  distance  to  where  the  woods  bor- 
dered H  on  the  south.  We  then  left  the  road  and  entered  the 
woods,  going  in  a  south-east  course  a  little  more  than  a  half 
mile.  In  a  spot  surrounded  by  small  trees  and  bushes,  where 
the  surface  of  the  ground  was  covered  with  rock  large  and  small, 
we  halted  for  the  day,  March  4th.  We  cleared  the  rocks  from 
a  small  space,  sufficiently  large  for  our  bed.  We  then  made  it 
and  went  to  rest  for  a  few  hours. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AWAKENED — WATCHING    IN    AMBUSH — AVEBILL'S   CAVALRY — WOMAN    MAKING   SUGAR — WK 

SEE   MEN  DRESSED  IN  BLUE — DECEIVING   THE  WOMAN-   CHANGE   OF    BASE MISLEADING 

PURSUERS — WE  EAT  LAST  OP  OUR  SUPPLIES  -START  OUT  IN  DAY-TIME  IN  ACCORDANCE 
WITH  AGREEMENT— OUR  DISCOVERY— OUR  PURSUIT — OUR  FLIGHT — TRIPPE  FAILS — 
HE  FALLS  BY  THE  WAY — REBELS  THREATEN — OUR  SPEED  OUR  SAFETY — TRIPPE'S  PROB- 
ABLE FATE. 

NEAR  nine  o'clock,  A.  M.,  March  4th,  we  were  awakened  by 
the  rumbling  noise  of  a  wagon  running  over  a  rough  and 
stony  road  not  far  to  the  east  of  us.  We  supposed  this  road  in- 
tersected the  one  we  had  been  traveling  during  the  night,  but 
we  had  not  noticed  the  point  of  intersection.  On  finding  we 
were  near  a  road  upon  which  persons  would  be  passing  during 
the  day  Smith  cautiously  ventured  in  the  direction  of  the  road 
to  a  cluster  of  cedar  bushes,  from  which,  while  concealed  from 
observation,  he  could  see  any  one  passing.  Soon  another  wagon 
was  heard  coming  down  the  road.  Smith  watched  in  the  bushes 
until  the  wagon  passed,  when  he  returned  to  us,  reporting  that 
the  wagon  was  a  common  army  wagon,  and  that  the  driver  had 
on  a  blue  overcoat.  "Can  it  be,"  said  Smith,  "that  Averill's 


70  A  STORY   OP  THE   WAR. 

cavalry  are  oil  a  raid  through  here?"  As  we  knew  the  Con 
federates  wore  blue  coats  whenever  they  got  possession  of  them 
we  did  not  comfort  ourselves  with  the  hope  that  Union  troopers 
were  in  the  vicinity.  We  rather  concluded  there  was  a  squad 
of  Confederate  military  in  the  neighborhood,  and  thought  best 
to  look  about  us  a  little. 

Smith,  having  been  out  east  of  us  and  taken  a  survey  of  the 
road  and  adjacent  woods,  thought  he  would  take  a  look  to  the 
south  and  south-west  of  us.  Keeping  under  cover  of  the  brush 
as  much  as  possible,  he  went  out  south  of  us,  intending  to  be 
gone  only  a  few  minutes.  Fully  a  half  hour  passed  and  Smith 
had  not  returned,  and,  finally,  we  suspected  something  wrong, 
and  quietly,  though  quickly,  folded  our  blankets  and  got  ready  for 
a  "skedaddle."  We  did  not,  however,  intend  changing  our  lo- 
cation before  Smith  returned,  or  until  it  was  certain  he  would 
not  return  at  all,  unless  somebody  else  came  upon  us  in  our 
present  retreat.  We  had  but  a  few  minutes  to  wait  before  we  saw 
Smith  approach  from  the  south  in  a  brisk,  though  cautious  walk. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  asked  Smith,  on  noticing  we  had 
torn  up  camp,  and  were  looking  as  though  we  were  about  ready 
to  fly. 

"It  means  that  we  had  given  you  up  as  lost  or  captured," 
answered  Trippe. 

"Well,"  said  Smith,  "  I  think  it  will  be  policy  for  us  to  shift 
from  this  place." 

"We  have  been  in  momentary  expectation  of  a  summons  to 
surrender,"  added  Trippe. 

Smith  had  gone  south  of  our  camp  but  little  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile.  He  was  bearing  considerably  to  the  west, 
when  he  noticed  to  his  right,  and  just  beyond  a  bluff  or  ledge, 
a  smoke  curling  upward.  Not  hearing  or  seeing  any  one,  he 
walked  up  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff  and  looked  over  and  saw  a 
woman  engaged  in  boiling  sugar-water.  As  he  was  endeavoring 
to  gain  the  shelter  of  the  bushes  the  woman  noticed  him  shying 
off  and  asked,  "What  are  you  afeared  of?" 

"0  nothing;  only  I  was  afraid  you  would  be  scared  if  you 
saw  me,"  answered  Smith. 


ESCA'PE  OP  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  71 

While  conversing  briefly  with  the  woman  Smith  found  she 
thought  it  nothing  strange  to  have  met  a  man  dressed  in  blue. 
Just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  asking  if  there  were  Federal  sol- 
diers near  he  happened  to  see  four  or  five  men  approaching  a 
log  cabin,  which  was  situated  in  the  center  of  a  cleared  space  of 
ground.  Two  of  the  men  were  dressed  in  blue;  the  others  were 
clad  in  butternut.  The  cabin  was  quite  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant to  the  south-west.  Smith  observed  to  the  woman,  "There 
is  a  company  of  soldiers  not  far  from  your  house." 

This  remark  was  made  in  such  a  tone  and  manner  as  led  the 
woman  to  believe  that  Smith  was  acquainted  in  the  vicinity.  As 
it  was  also  half  inquisitive,  the  woman  answered  that  there  was 
a  company  of  soldiers  not  far  off,  and  asked,  "An't  you  one 
of  'em?" 

Having  gained  the  information  desired,  and  seeing  the  oppor- 
tunity of  deceiving  the  woman,  Smith  replied,  "  Of  course  I  am." 

"  Well,"  said  the  woman,  "  I  thought  it  curious  if  you 
wasn't." 

"0,  yes/'  returned  Smith,  "I  'm  a  soldier." 

"As  there  was  a  horse  tied  to  a  tree  near  the  woman  hav- 
ing a  man's  saddle  on  it,  Smith  expected  a  man — perhaps  a 
soldier — would  be  there  presently,  and  started  off,  observing  as 
he  left,  "  Well,  I  must  go  back  to  camp." 

On  leaving  the  woman,  Smith  went  in  a  direction  contrary  to 
that  which  he  expected  to  take  on  getting  out  of  her  sight.  He 
soon  after  approached  our  hiding-place  from  the  south,  as  before 
mentioned.  On  hearing  Smith's  narration  of  facts,  as  given 
above,  we  gathered  our  things  and  started  eastward.  On  reach- 
ing the  road  on  which  the  wagons  had  passed,  we  walked  back- 
ward across  it.  We  went  through  the  woods  some  distance 
further  east,  and  then  we  turned  north.  We  soon  came  to  the 
road  over  which  we  had  passed  during  the  night,  and  crossed  it, 
walking  backward.  We  continued  in  a  northern  direction 
until  we  had  gone  something  more  than  a  mile  from  the  road, 
and  had  reached  heavy  woods  with  a  thick  bushy  undergrowth, 
in  which  we  halted  for  awhile.  After  a  few  moments'  rest  and 
consultation,  we  retraced  our  steps  a  short  distance  to  a  branch 


72  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

we  had  crossed,  and  in  it  we  washed  our  hands  and  faces.  We 
then  eat  the  last  of  our  provisions,  and  had  nothing  left  to  carry 
with  us  to  subsist  on. 

Near  three  o'clock,  P.  M.,  having  got  every  thing  ready,  we 
started  on  our  travels  in  daylight,  in  accordance  with  previous 
arrangement.  We  made  our  way  through  the  woods  and  brush 
with  some  difficulty,  in  a  western  direction,  until  we  had  gone 
about  a  mile,  when  we  noticed  an  opening  not  far  to  our  left, 
where  the  timber  had  been  cleared  away.  We  approached  this 
cleared  land,  in  order  to  avoid  the  thickets  of  brush.  On  reach- 
ing it,  we  saw  a  small  log  cabin  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  it.  As  we  saw  no  one,  we  went  along  near  the 
brush  and  woods,  going  toward  the  stream  we  had  encountered 
at  day-break,  before  we  had  found  our  place  of  refuge  for  the 
day.  When  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  stream,  having 
gained  a  point  directly  north  of  the  cabin,  we  looked  toward  it, 
and  saw  a  woman  standing  near  its  south-west  corner.  As  she 
was  not  looking  at  us,  we  judged  she  had  not  noticed  us,  and  as 
ehe  was  almost  half  a  mile  distant,  we  deemed  it  unnecessary  to 
change  our  course  on  her  account.  On  reaching  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  and  before  going  down  to  the  water's  brink,  we  again 
looked  toward  the  cabin,  and  saw  that  the  woman  was  just  dis- 
appearing. Almost  at  the  same  instant  we  heard  the  loud, 
shrill,  blast  of  a  horn  or  bugle.  Not  knowing  for  what  purpose 
the  bugle  had  been  sounded,  we  thought  it  boded  us  no  good 
at  least.  When  we  reached  the  margin  of  the  stream  we  re- 
moved the  shoes  and  socks  from  our  feet,  then  putting  our  shoes 
on,  we  waded  the  stream.  Wood  and  Trippe  had  reached  the 
opposite  bank,  and  Smith,  Sutherland,  and  I  were  nearing  it, 
when  looking  to  our  left  we  saw  a  man  on  horseback  coming 
down  the  road  that  passed  between  the  stream  and  the  ridge  of 
the  mountain.  He  came  toward  us  rapidly  until  he  saw  us 
plainly,  when  he  wheeled  suddenly  about,  and  dashed  back  up 
the  road  with  great  speed.  He  was  bare-headed,  and  when  he 
turned  about  in  the  road,  displaying  his  long  locks  of  hair,  and 
the  cape  of  his  overcoat,  with  its  brass  buttons  glistening  in  the 
sunlight,  we  at  once  realized  our  situation,  and  the  necessity  of 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  73 

getting  away  from  there  as  quickly  as  we  could.  We  took  time, 
however,  to  put  on  our  dry  socks;  then  putting  our  shoes  on, 
and  lacing  them  securely,  we  left  the  bank  of  the  stream  and  the 
road  directly  in  our  rear,  and  pushed  up  the  mountain-side  as 
rapidly  as  the  nature  of  the  ground  would  permit. 

The  ridge  near  its  base  was  thickly  covered  over  with  pine 
and  cedar  bushes,  but  as  we  neared  its  summit,  the  bushes  were 
more  scattering.  The  side  of  the  ridge  was  covered  over  with 
rocks,  large  and  small,  and  it  was  impossible  to  make  a  foot- 
print on  its  stony  surface.  Near  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and  on 
its  summit,  were  innumerable  rocks  of  large  and  massive  size. 
Trippe  having  been  recaptured  once  and  sent  back  to  prison,  was 
determined  to  avoid,  if  possible,  the  recurrence  of  an  event 
fraught  with  such  calamitous  consequences.  On  the  first  appear- 
ance of  danger  he  had  hurried  his  preparations  for  leaving  the 
'itream,  and  had  started  out  in  advance  of  the  other  four  of  us. 
We  only  aimed  to  keep  Trippe  in  view,  and  allow  the  distance 
between  him  and  ourselves  to  grow  no  greater.  Trippe  was 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  summit  of  the  ridge  when  he 
stopped  to  rest.  As  soon  as  we  saw  he  had  halted,  we  did 
the  same,  although  we  were  not  much  wearied.  But  we  wished 
to  husband  our  strength  as  much  as  possible,  knowing  we  should 
be  hunted  and  pursued.  Smith,  Sutherland,  Wood,  and  I  kept 
near  together,  that  we  might  consult  each  other  as  we  hurried 
forward,  for  we  recognized  the  value  and  importance  of  concerted 
action  in  the  expected  emergency. 

We  had  rested  a  very  few  minutes  when  we  looked  up  the 
mountain  and  saw  Trippe  hurrying  to  the  top  of  it.  Supposing 
from  his  extraordinary  exertions  that  he  had  seen  pursuers  from 
his  more  elevated  position,  we  cast  a  glance  below  us.  At  first 
glance  we  saw  no  one,  but  thought  we  could  see  the  tops  of  the 
bushes  moving  near  the  base  of  the  ridge.  We  watched  for.  a 
moment  only,  and  then  saw  five  or  six  bare-headed  Butternut 
gentry  appear  in  sight,  as  they  emerged  from  the  bushes,  about 
two  hundred  yards  below  us.  They  had  guns,  with  bayonets  at- 
tached, but  were  minus  their  cartridge-boxes.  We  pushed  ahead 
at  a  moderate  run  for  the  top  of  the  mountain,  occasionally  looking 


74  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

behind  us  to  see  if  the  Kebels  were  gaining  on  us.  On  reaching 
the  summit  of  the  ridge  we  followed  it,  as  Trippe  had,  in  a 
north-eastern  direction.  Soon  we  came  to  a  deep  chasm,  or 
gorge,  through  the  top  of  the  mountain.  On  the  sides  of  this 
chasm  were  many  large  rocks,  and  a  few  scattering  trees  or 
bushes.  Should  our  pursuers  fire  on  us,  we  thought  we  could 
make  it  very  difficult  for  them  to  hit  us,  by  constantly  dodging 
about,  and  disappearing  behind  the  huge  rocks. 

As  Smith,  Sutherland,  Wood,  and  I  were  going  down  the 
south  side  of  the  chasm,  Trippe  was  hurrying  with  might  and 
main  up  its  north  side.  Just  as  our  pursuers  reached  the  chasm, 
on  its  south  side,  we  gained  the  top  of  the  ridge  on  the  north 
of  it.  Should  the  Rebels  all  commence  to  cross  the  clmsm  at 
once,  we  should  be  out  of  sight  before  they  got  over;  so  they 
divided  their  squad,  two  remaining  to  watch  our  movements, 
while  the  others  crossed  in  pursuit  of  us.  Just  as  we  had  gained 
the  top  of  the  ridge  north  of  the  gorge,  the  two  Rebels  on  the 
south  side  of  it  cried  out,  "  Halt !  halt !  you  d — d  Yankees,  you, 
or  we  '11  shoot  you."  Having  little  fears  of  bullets  at  such  long 
range,  and  feeling  sure  they  had  but  one  round  of  ammunition 
with  them,  we  paid  no  attention  to  their  threats.  No  shots  were 
fired  at  us,  but  threats  to  shoot  were  repeated  as  long  as  we  were 
in  hearing. 

Although  we  had  hurried  considerably,  we  discovered  Trippe 
was  out  of  sight,  and  we  increased  our  speed,  as  much  to  get  a 
view  of  him  as  to  gain  on  our  pursuers.  We  had  gone  but  a 
few  yards  after  so  doing  before  we  came  to  Trippe  lying  on  the 
ground,  near  a  large  crevice  or  opening  in  a  huge  rock.  He 
was  completely  exhausted,  and  unable  to  speak  or  make  himself 
understood.  We  scarcely  halted  on  reaching  Trippe,  as  three  or 
four  of  the  Confederates  had  gained  the  top  of  the  ridge  north 
of  the  gorge,  and  were  yelling  at  us  to  halt  and  surrender.  They 
were  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  distant,  but  many  rocks  of 
huge  proportions  intervened  between  them  and  ourselves.  Trippe 
at  this  moment  motioned  to  us  with  both  arms,  and  then  began 
crawling  into  the  opening  in  the  rock  near  him.  What  he  wished 
us  to  do  we  did  not  know,  and  had  no  opportunity  of  ascertain- 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PBISONEES.  75 

ing,  as  we  were  obliged  to  flee  for  our  own  safety.    He  attempted 
to  speak  but  could  not. 

We  left  Trippe  to  his  fate,  and  hurried  on  without  stopping, 
until  we  were  entirely  out  of  hearing  of  the  Rebels.  When  we 
were  beyond  the  immediate  reach  of  the  enemy,  it  was  a  ques- 
tion with  us  whether  we  should  pause  for  a  few  moments,  to 
see  if  Trippe  had  escaped  their  notice,  or  push  ahead.  We  halted 
and  listened  for  a  few  minutes,  but  heard  nothing.  We  concluded 
the  enemy  had  found  Trippe,  and  were  now  looking  among  the 
rocks  for  us,  and  determined  to  push  forward.  We  kept  on 
the  top  of  the  ridge  for  the  distance  of  nearly  two  miles,  when  we 
came  to  a  gorge  leading  down  the  western  slope  of  the  mount- 
ain into  the  valley.  We  followed  down  this  gorge  until  we  were 
fully  half-way  to  the  valley.  In  a  place  entirely  surrounded  by 
cedar  bushes,  we  halted  to  rest.  The  sides  of  the  gorge  were 
high  and  rugged,  and  huge  rocks  projected  from  them,  and  hung 
almost  directly  over  our  heads.  No  sound  fell  upon  our  ears; 
not  even  of  the  wind  gently  blowing,  or  of  running  water's  low 
murmur.  It  was  truly  a  place  of  solitude.  The  unfortunate 
event  of  the  evening,  the  loss  of  our  comrade,  made  it  doubly 
sad  and  solitary  to  us.  As  we  had  made  very  few,  if  any,  foot- 
prints, we  knew  the  enemy  could  not  easily  trace  us;  and  though 
sorrowing  and  dejected  in  spirit,  we  felt  safe  in  the  loneliness  and 
seclusion  of  the  place.  We  felt  deeply  the  loss  we  had  sustained 
in  our  separation  from  Trippe,  as  we  had  hitherto  deferred  to 
him  in  all  the  straits  and  critical  situations  in  which  we  had 
been  placed.  It  was  the  second  time  he  had  been  recaptured — 
if  really  recaptured  this  time — and  foiled  in  his  attempts  to  es- 
cape prison,  and  on  that  account  we  felt  sorry  for  him.  We 
called  to  mind  the  reluctance  manifested  by  him  to  starting  with 
us  on  the  trip  to  the  lines;  also  his  great  discouragement  when 
he  came  across  the  citizen  in  the  woods,  about  ten  days  previ- 
ously. We  conjectured  the  Rebels  had  certainly  found  Trippe. 
We  conjectured,  too,  that  Trippe,  in  motioning  to  us,  had  intended 
to  be  understood  as  directing  us  to  hide,  as  he  was  doing ;  that 
the  Rebels  would  question  him  as  to  where  the  rest  of  us  were, 
and  that  he  would  answer  that  we  were  hid  among  the  rocks 


76  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

somewhere  near ;  that  they  would  look  for  us,  and,  failing  to  fine 
us,  would  accuse  him  of  deceiving  and  delaying  them  in  their 
pursuit  of  us  until  we  were  out  of  reach.  Taking  this  view  of 
the  matter  we  feared  the  Eebels  would  become  exasperated  at 
Trippe,  and  would  treat  him  cruelly,  if  they  did  not  murder  him. 
Whatever  the  result  of  the  fray  might  have  been  to  Trippe,  we 
knew  we  were  yet  free.  Knowing  it  was  entirely  beyond  our 
power  to  rescue  or  protect  him,  we  sadly  realized  the  extent  of 
our  loss,  and  began  to  look  out  again  for  ourselves. 

To  this  date,  February,  1870,  I  have  never  heard  either  from 
or  of  Trippe,  and  know  nothing  as  to  his  fate.  He  was  about 
thirty-four  years  of  age,  was  a  man  of  good  judgment,  and  pos- 
sessed many  excellent  qualities  of  mind  and  heart.  I  think  he 
had  been  at  one  time  Orderly  Sergeant  of  his  Company,  Com- 
pany H,  15th  United  States  Infantry.  He  enlisted  at  Columbus, 
Ohio,  in  the  year  1861.  He  was  never  married. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ACROSS  BIDGJB  AND  VAI.LKY — WE  SEE  NEW  CASTLE  IN  THE  DISTANCE — CHILDREN  SCARED — 
WOMEN  AMAZED — WE  VISIT  THEM — THEY  THINK  WK  ARE  "6ECKSH" — WE  THINK 
THEY  ARE  "  SECESH" — EACH  PARTY  MISTAKEN — ALL  GOOD  UNIONISTS — A  DESERTKR 
HID  UNDER  THB  BED— HE  COMES  FORTH— AT  "JEEMES"  HUFFMAN'S— HE  THINKS  WE 
ARE  CONFEDERATES— FINE  SUFFER  AT  MIDNIGHT — WE  ARE  BEWILDERED  IN  THE 
DARKNESS  AND  RAIN — DUCKED  IN  CRAIG'S  CREEK — WE  AVOID  REBEL  RENDEZVOUS 
HIDE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS — AT  THE  HOUSE  OF  A  CONFEDERATE  HOME  GUARD— HE  IS 
SICK — PROVES  TO  BE  A  UNION  MAN — ONE  CORN-DODGER — HE  SENDS  US  TO  ANOTHER 
UNION  MAN — WE  LOSE  OUR  WAY— PRECIOUS  TIME  LOST — WE  ARRIVE  AT  WM.  PAX- 
TON'S— SUPPER  AT  MIDNIGHT— AN  OLD  REBEL  BADLY  FOOLED— PAXTON  DIRECTS  US 
TO  ROBERT  CHILDS'S— CHILD8  NOT  AT  HOME — HIS  WIFE  PRETENDS  TO  BE  SECESH  — 
SHE  THINKS  WK  ARE  SECESH — CHILDS  COMES  HOME — HE  VISITS  US  IN  THE  WOODS- 
HE  18  A  RABID  SECESH— ADMITS  WE  ARE  UNIONISTS — BUT  BELIEVES  THE  CONTRARY— 
THE  MYSTERY  ACCIDENTALLY  SOLVED — MRS.  CHILDS  A  UNIONIST — MR.  CHILDS  A 
UNIONIST — THEY  COME  TO  KNOW  WK  ABE  UNION  SOLDIERS— GOOD  FEELING— WE  ARE 
FED— WK  ARE  8BNT  TO  DAVID  HELPER— WE  SEPARATE  FROM  CHILDS. 

WE  rested  in  the  gorge  for  the  space  of  half  an  hour.     Soon 
after  leaving  it  we  reached  the  valley.     We  crossed  the 
valley,  and  immediately  began  the  ascent  of  another  ridge,  and 
on  gaining  its  summit  we  could  see  a  town  in  the  distance  to  the 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  77 

west  of  us.  We  .ascertained,  late  in  the  day,  that  the  town  was 
New  Castle,  Craig  county,  Virginia.  We  went  down  the  mount- 
ain-side into  another  valley,  and  then  changed  our  course,  and 
followed  up  the  valley  in  a  direction  a  little  east  of  north.  In 
passing  through  a  dense  thicket  we  came  to  a  dilapidated  rail- 
fence.  We  crossed  the  fence,  and  soon  emerged  from  the  thicket 
into  more  open  ground.  We  were  bearing  considerably  to  the 
east,  following  around  the  thicket,  when  we  suddenly  came  upon 
a  hut.  Three  or  four  children  were  at  play  near  the  door.  They 
saw  us  and  ran  into  the  house  immediately,  when  two  women 
appeared  at  the  door  and  gazed  at  us  in  apparent  amazement. 
As  it  was  growing  late,  the  sun  having  gone  down,  we  know 
the  women  could  bring  no  harm  upon  us,  and  we  approached  the 
humble  dwelling  and  entered  it  without  waiting  for  an  invitation. 
We  took  seats,  and  opened  the  conversation  by  telling  the  women 
to  set  before  us,  on  the  table,  what  they  had  cooked,  as  we  wore 
hungry,  and  had  nothing  to  eat.  The  women  complied,  setting 
out  a  few  slices  of  cold  boiled  meat,  a  couple  of  corn-dodgers, 
and  four  bowls  of  milk.  We  sat  around  the  table  and  eat  all 
that  had  been  placed  upon  it.  After  eating  we  told  the  women 
that  was  the  first  milk,  with  one  exception,  we  had  drank  for 
many  months,  and  that  was  the  first  bread  we  had  eaten  for 
two  days. 

The  women  seemed  very  much  astonished,  and  inquired  who 
we  were,  and  where  we  were  from.  We  told  them  we  had  been 
prisoners  at  Danville,  Virginia,  and  were  now  trying  to  make 
our  way  through  the  mountains  to  the  Union  lines.  They  then 
apologized  to  us  for  the  scantiness  of  the  meal  they  had  given 
us,  saying  they  thought  we  were  Confederate  guards  from  New 
Castle.  We  also  apologized  to  them  for  ordering  them,  in  so 
abrupt  a  manner,  to  set  out  supper  for  us,  saying  we  thought 
they  were  "  Secesh."  The  women  then  called  for  "Jim  "  to  come 
out  from  under  the  bed.  "Jim"  immediately  came  forth.  On 
our  approach  he  had  hid  under  the  bed,  thinking  we  were  Con- 
federate home  guards.  Jim  was  a  deserter  from  Buckner's 
army  in  East  Tennessee.  We  told  these  Unionists  of  the  event 
of  the  afternoon ;  of  our  being  pursued,  and  of  losing  one  of  our 


78  A  STORY  OP  THE  WAR. 

number  in  our  flight.  They  seemed  to  manifest  much  anxiety 
on  account  of  the  lost  one,  and  asked  us  many  questions  con- 
cerning him, 

We  inquired  if  there  was  any  good  Union  man  living  in  the 
valley  of  whom  we  could  procure  provisions  to  carry  with  u,s. 
We  were  told  that  "Jeemes"  Huffman  lived  four  miles  up  the 
branch,  and  could  furnish  us  with  provisions.  A  path  was 
pointed  out  to  us  that  led  up  to  Huffman's  house.  Just  at  dusk 
we  bid  our  Union  friends  "good  evening"  and  set  out,  intend- 
ing to  give  Huffman  a  call.  About  half  the  distance  had  been 
gone  over  when  darkness  fully  set  in.  After  dark  our  progress 
was  much  slower  in  following  the  strange  and  devious  pathway. 
Near  nine  o'clock,  P.  M.,  we  saw  the  light  of  a  fire,  shining 
dimly  through  Huffman's  window.  We  crossed  a  fence  and  fol- 
lowed the  path  a  short  distance  up  the  mountain-side  to  the 
house.  The  door  was  standing  open,  and  we  entered  and  stood 
before  Huffman  and  his  wife.  They  were  not  a  little  surprised, 
and  seemed  doubtful  as  to  the  manner  in  which  they  should  treat 
us.  We  were  soon  seated  before  the  fire,  however,  and  began 
to  acquaint  Huffman  with  our  condition  and  necessities.  Having 
heard  with  interest  our  narrative  of  the  facts  in  our  case  the 
woman  asked  if  we  would  have  supper.  We  answered  in  the 
affirmative,  and  she  went  to  work,  and  by  ten  o'clock,  P.  M.,  we 
sat  down  to  a  table  bountifully  supplied  with  food. 

While  eating  we  learned  from  Huffman  that  he  lived  two  and 
a  half  miles  from  New  Castle,  Craig  county.  We  learned,  also, 
that  the  home  guards  at  New  Castle  searched  the  premises  of 
the  mountaineers  every  two  weeks  for  deserters  from  the  Con- 
federate army.  When  we  first  entered  the  house  Huffman  sup- 
posed we  were  home  guards  from  New  Castle,  and  the  hesitancy 
on  his  part  to  avow,  at  first,  his  Union  sentiments,  was  the  re- 
sult. Huffman  said  it  had  been  two  weeks  since  his  house  had 
been  searched,  and  he  was  in  hourly  expectation  of  the  guards. 
As  Huffman  was  engaged  in  shelling  corn,  we  asked  of  him  the 
privilege  of  shelling  a  few  ears  to  carry  with  us  to  eat  on  the 
morrow.  This  favor  was  readily  granted,  and  some  three  or  four 
dozens  of  Irish  potatoes  were  also  furnished  us. 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  79 

Near  eleven  o'clock  on  that  night  of  March  4th  we  were  ready 
to  set  out  again  on  our  travels.  Huffman  gave  us  directions  how 
to  get  across  Craig's  Creek,  and  how  to  avoid  a  certain  house, 
which  he  described,  where  a  Rebel  family  lived,  and  where  the 
home  guards  sometimes  stopped,  when  out  on  their  semi-monthly 
rounds.  After  bidding  Huffman  and  his  wife  good-night,  we  left 
them,  and  followed,  as  well  as  we  could,  the  directions  we  had 
received.  It  had  become  very  dark  and  cloudy,  and  before  we 
leached  Craig's  Creek  it  began  raining,  and  we  found  it  impos- 
sible to  follow  the  directions  Huffman  had  given  us.  But  we 
pushed  on  in  the  darkness,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour  we 
reached  the  stream.  We  found  we  were  considerably  off  the 
track,  having  missed  the  crossing  Huffman  had  described.  We 
spent  half  an  hour  or  more  in  wandering  up  and  down  the  creek, 
looking  carefully  for  the  crossing,  but  failed  to  find  it.  We  spent 
another  half  hour  in  procuring  a  stout  staff,  or  stick,  apiece,  to 
be  used  in  the  stream  while  wading  it.  Having  supplied  our- 
selves, we  plunged  into  the  waters  of  the  creek,  steadying  our- 
selves against  the  swift  current  with  our  sticks  as  best  we  could. 

It  was  very  dark,  and  the  rain  continued  falling.  To  add  to 
the  difficulty  of  crossing,  we  found  that  the  bed  or  bottom  of  the 
creek  was  very  treacherous,  being  fall  of  rocks  and  holes.  We 
found  the  water  very  cold,  and  the  current  strong  and  swift. 
We  stumbled  often,  and  came  near  falling  into  the  water,  but 
finally  got  safely  across,  with  a  thorough  and  cold  wetting.  All 
our  clothing  was  wet,  and  dripping  with  water,  as  we  stood  upon 
the  bank.  We  took  off  our  blouses  and  wrung  the  water  from 
them.  After  re-arranging  our  things,  we  set  out  again  in  a 
northern  direction,  following  up  the  valley.  We  found  it  neces- 
sary to  walk  briskly  before  morning,  in  order  to  excite  warmth 
of  body  to  dry  our  clothing.  As  we  had  not  crossed  the  creek 
at  the  point  where  we  had  expected  to  do  so,  we  had  avoided 
the  house  which  was  the  rendezvous  of  the  Rebel  guards.  A 
road  was  soon  reached,  on  which  we  walked  with  much  energy, 
and  the  clothing  next  our  bodies  soon  became  dry  of  the  damp- 
ening effects  of  the  plunging  and  stumbling  in  Craig's  Creek. 
Daylight  having  broke  upon  us,  we  began  looking  for  a  hiding- 


80  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

place.  Owing  to  the  ill  luck  attending  our  first  day's  travel,  we 
were  induced  to  fall  back  on  the  old  plan  of  lying  by  in  day- 
time. As  there  were  home  guards  in  the  country,  we  thought 
we  should  feel  safer  in  trusting  ourselves  to  the  friendly  shelter 
of  the  woods  during  the  day. 

Day-break  found  us  on  the  road  where  it  passed  between  two 
high  ridges  of  mountains.  There  was  no  alternative  but  to  hide 
far  up  in  the  side  of  the  ridge  east  of  the  road.  We  began  the 
ascent  of  the  ridge,  and  were  not  long  in  gaining  its  summit; 
and  on  its  eastern  slope  we  halted  for  the  day,  among  the  huge 
rocks.  In  a  short  time  we  cleared  a  space  sufficiently  large  for 
our  bed.  Our  bedding  was  a  little  damp;  but  as  we  had  lost 
much  sleep  in  the  last  twenty  hours,  that  circumstance  did  not 
hinder  us  from  sleeping  soundly.  We  slept  until  late  in  the  day, 
when  we  made  a  fire  preparatory  to  parching  corn  and  roasting 
potatoes.  We  eat  as  much  as  we  wished  of  the  potatoes  and 
corn,  and  finding  we  did  not  much  relish  such  fare,  since  the 
excellent  though  late  supper  at  Huffman's  the  night  before,  we 
determined  to  have  something  better  to  eat  the  next  day,  if  pos- 
sible. We  resolved  that  the  first  house  we  came  to,  after  setting 
out,  should  be  the  scene  of  an  attempt,  at  least,  to  get  some  pro- 
visions. The  time  of  starting  having  arrived,  and  all  being  in 
readiness,  we  crossed  the  summit  of  the  ridge  and  descended  to 
the  road  in  the  valley.  We  walked  leisurely  along  the  road, 
not  wishing  to  reach  the  first  house  too  early  in  the  night. 
Near  nine  o'clock  we  came  to  a  house  on  our  left,  a  short  distance 
from  us.  We  heard  mnsic  as  we  halted,  and  questioned  the 
propriety  of  entering  the  house ;  but  finally  concluded  not  to 
forego  our  resolution  to  try  our  hand  at  procuring  supplies. 
We  crossed  the  rail-fence  a  few  steps  from  the  house,  and  went  to 
the  door.  We  opened  the  door,  entered  the  house,  and  took 
seats  without  waiting  to  be  asked  to  do  so.  Four  or  five  chil- 
dren were  seated  before  the  fire.  The  oldest,  a  boy  about  fifteen 
years  old,  had  been  playing  the  violin.  As  we  entered  the  house 
the  mother  of  the  children  stepped  out  the  back  door,  but  did  not 
close  it  entirely.  The  mother  held  the  door  slightly  open,  and 
listened  to  what  we  had  to  say  to  the  children.  On  finding  we 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  81. 

talked  kindly,  ghe  came  into  the  room,  and  then  we  made  known 
the  object  of  our  call  at  such  a  time.  The  woman  represented 
herself  as  being  very  poor,  with  a  sick  husband  and  five  children 
to  provide  for.  She  pointed  to  the  bed  in  the  corner  in  which 
her  husband  lay.  .On  looking,  we  saw  the  unfortunate  man,  and 
conversed  with  him.  We  learned  he  had  lost  his  health  while 
serving  in  the  Confederate  army  under  Buckner.  On  account 
of  disability,  he  had  been  discharged  from  service,  and  allowed 
to  return  to  his  family.  He  now  belonged  to  a  home  guard 
company.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation,  the  sick  man 
claimed  he  was  really  a  Union  man,  but  had  been  obliged  to  yield 
to  the  pressure  of  public  opinion,  and  had  been  conscripted  into 
the  army.  He  now  belonged  to  the  home  guards,  to  keep  from 
being  again  sent  to  the  front.  He  said  he  would  gladly  give  us 
something  to  eat,  but  as  it  was  beyond  his  ability  to  do  so,  he 
could  only  direct  us  to  a  man  who  could  provide  for  us.  After 
giving  us  particular  directions  how  we  should  find  the  home  of. 
William  Paxton,  he  said  no  more.  We  bade  the  sick  man  and 
family  "  good-night,"  and  left  the  house.  Before  we  had  reached 
the  fence,  one  of  the  children  opening  the  door  called  out  to  us 
to  wait  a  minute.  We  waited,  and  the  boy  brought  us  one 
corn-dodger.  Taking  it,  we  expressed  our  thanks,  and  went  on 
our  way. 

On  getting  some  distance  from  the  house,  we  debated  as  to 
the  propriety  of  seeking  Paxton 's  aid.  We  feared  Paxton  was  a 
Rebel.  It  seemed  strange  that  a  late  follower  of  Buckner,  and 
a  Confederate  home  guard,  should  give  directions  to  escaping 
Federals ;  but  as  he  had  given  us  bread  from  his  limited  supply 
and  had  told  ,us  just  how  to  avoid  and  get  around  a  certain 
house  where  Confederate  guards  often  met,  we  concluded  to  fol- 
low his  directions,  if  possible,  and  if  we  found  things  as  rep- 
resented, we  would  go  to  Paxton's. 

It  was  seven  miles  to  Paxton's  house,  which  was  situated  on 
the  road  as  it  passed  over  a  mountain.  After  going  some  four 
miles  on  the  road,  we  came  to  the  house  where  the  Rebels  con- 
gregated. It  was  near  the  road,  and  lights  shone  from  all  the 
windows.  We  passed  some  distance  south  of  it,  but  near  enough 


82  A  STORY   OF   T-Hfe  WAR. 

to  hear  the  noise  of  revelry.  At  a  point  nearly  two  miles  west 
of  this  house,  we  should  have  gone  on  the  mountain;  but  owing 
to  the  indistinctness  of  the  road,  and  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
we  missed  our  way.  When  we  found  we  were  off  the  right 
track,  we  retraced  our  steps  for  over  a  mile.  As  it  was  near 
morning  we  began  a  careful  search  for  the  point  where  the 
mountain  road  led  off  to  the  left  from  the  other,  and  found  it 
just  at  day-break.  We  could  now  do  nothing  but  look  out  for 
a  hiding-place  for  the  day,  Sunday,  March  6th. 

According  to  the  account  of  the  sick  man,  we  were  hid  but' 
little  more  than  a  mile  from  Paxton's  abode.  Our  retreat  for 
the  day  was  close  to  a  spring,  where  we  could  wash  and  get* 
water  to  drink.  In  the  evening,  fearing  ramblers  would  come 
to  the  spring,  we  moved  further  from  it.  Having  eaten  our 
corn-dodger  the  preceding  night,  we  were  obliged  to  resort  fctf 
subsistence  to  the  remnant  of  roasted  potatoes  and  com  left  over 
from  yesterday's  fare.  The  day  seemed  long,  but  it  wore  away, 
and  we  took  up  our  line  of  march,  near  nine  o'clock,  P.  M.,  for 
Paxton's  house.  In  less  than  two  hour's  time  we  came  to  a 
house  answering  the  description  we  had  received.  We  passed 
through  the  gate  in  front  and  approached  the  door.  We  rapped 
gently,  and  were  invited  by  an  old  man  to  come  in.  As  we  were* 
being  seated,  one  of  our  party  asked  the  old  man  if  his  name 
was  Paxton.  He  answered  that  it  was;  and  wished  to  know 
how  and  where  we  had  learned  his  name.  We  told  him,  and  he 
seemed  much  surprised,  as  our  informant  had  been  considered 
by  him  as  a  disunionist.  All  had  retired  to  sleep  at  Paxton's  ex- 
cepting himself.  We  told  him  we  wished  something  to  eat,  and 
he  immediately  called  his  two  daughters  to  get  our  supper  for 
us.  Paxton  knew  we  were  Federals,  and  made  no  attempt  to 
conceal  his  Union  sentiments.  While  waiting  for  supper,  we 
conversed  on  war  topics,  on  prison  life,  and  our  trip  since  leav- 
ing prison*  When  supper  was  announced,  we  sat  down  to  a 
table  bountifully  supplied  with  food.  While  we  were  eating,  an 
old  man  stopped  at  Paxton's,  who  had  been  out  from  Fincastle) 
where  he  lived,  to  take  a  woman  to  her  home  in  the  country. 
This  new-comer  did  not  seem  to  notice  us  until  we  had  finished 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  83 

supper  and  taken  seats  before  the  fire.  As  I  was  sitting  next 
him,  he  took  hold  of  my  pants  at  the  knee,  and  inquired  rather 
roughly,  "  Where  do  you  belong  ?"  Not  knowing  what  answer 
to  make,  under  the  circumstances,  to  such  a  question,  I  merely 
turned  my  head,  and  glanced  at  my  three  comrades,  who  in  turn 
looked  immediately  to  the  old  man  Paxton,  who  very  quickly 
spoke  up  saying,  "They  belong  to  the  22d,  which  you  know  is 
stationed  at  the  bridge."  Paxton  immediately  added,  "They 
have  been  home  on  furlough,  their  time  is  up,  and  they  are  now 
on  their  way  to  the  bridge."  The  old  Fincastle  man  seemed 
satisfied  with  Paxton's  explanation.  One  of  our  party  soon  after 
observed,  as  he  was  rising  from  his  seat,  "  Well,  boys,  we  must 
be  off  now ;  we  must  put  in  an  appearance  at  the  bridge  as  soon 
as  possible."  We  then  gathered  our  things  and  went  out  of  the 
house.  As  we  passed  out,  Paxton  was  seating  the  Fincastle  man 
at  the  supper  table.  That  done,  he  opened  the  door,  and  said 
to  us,  "  Boys,  you  '11  find  it  cold  traveling  over  the  mountain 
to-night." 

"Yes,"  said  Wood,  laughing,  "but  we  '11  only  walk  the  faster 
and  get  to  the  bridge  sooner." 

Paxton  then  came  out,  closing  the  door  behind  him.  He  told 
us  the  old  fellow  at  the  supper  table  was  a  notorious  Rebel.  As 
Paxton  wished  to  get  in  the  house  as  soon  as  possible,  to  attend 
M  his  Rebel  guest,  thus  keeping  down  suspicion,  he  told  us 
where  and  how  to  find  the  house  of  Robert  Childs,  who  lived 
eleven  miles  from  there.  Childs,  he  said,  was  a  good  Union 
man,  and  his  wife  was  a  true  Union  woman,  who  would  be  glad 
to  help  us  on  our  way.  On  getting  over  the  mountain,  and 
reaching  a  point  about  seven  miles  from  Paxton's,  we  were  to 
turn  to  our  right,  and  go  north  four  miles  to  another  road,  on 
which  Childs  lived. 

We  then  set  out  anew  on  the  night's  travel.  In  two  hours' 
time  we  had  traveled,  as  we  thought,  about  seven  miles,  and  we 
called  at  a  house  and  inquired  of  a  negro  how  far  we  were  from 
the  road  leading  north  to  the  mill.  We  were  told  it  was  half  a 
mile  east  of  there;  and  without  delay  we  hastened  back  on  the 
road  a  short  distance,  and  began  looking  carefully  for  the  turn- 


84  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

ing  off  place.  We  soon  found  it,  and  also  found  much  difficulty 
ahead  of  us.  The  road,  it  seemed,  was  a  new  one,  having  been 
cut  but  recently  through  a  heavy  wood.  We  made  slow  prog- 
ress ;  we  stumbled  often  over  stumps  and  rocks.  The  moon  was 
shining,  but  its  light  scarcely  reached  our  pathway,  as  the  dense 
woods  closely  hedged  it  in.  We  trudged  slowly  on,  and  reached 
Childs's  Mill  before  day-break.  The  mill  was  near  the  point 
where  the  road  we  had  been  following  intersected  another  run- 
ning east  and  west.  Although  it  was  not  yet  day,  we  concluded 
to  call  on  Childs  at  his  house,  tell  him  our  wants,  and  ask  him 
to  show  us  where  we  could  stop  for  the  day  and  be  safe. 

We  halted  opposite  the  house,  and  Sutherland  went  into  the 
yard  and  rapped  at  the  door,  but  no  answer  came.  He  next  at- 
tempted to  raise  a  window,  but  a  woman's  voice  protested  against 
it.  Sutherland  then  inquired  if  Childs  was  at  home,  and  the 
woman  answered  that  he  was  not.  The  woman's  tone  of  voice 
plainly  indicated  that  she  was  considerably  frightened;  so  we 
determined  to  seek  a  hiding-place  in  the  forest.  When  we  had 
found  a  suitable  place,  we  made  our  bed  and  lay  down  on  it  to 
sleep.  Morning  was  faintly  appearing  when  we  lay  down,  and 
we  heard  chickens  crowing  in  the  distance.  In  about  two  hours' 
time  we  awoke,  and  found  the  sun  shining  brightly.  We  con- 
sulted briefly  as  to  what  we  should  do,  and  determined  that  one 
of  our  party  should  go  back  to  Childs's  house,  to  see  if  he  had 
got  home,  and  to  get  something  to  eat,  as  we  had  brought 
nothing  with  us  from  Paxton's  on  account  of  the  presence  of  the 
Fincastle  Rebel.  Each  of  us  was  anxious  to  perform  the  errand, 
and  we  drew  cuts  to  see  which  of  us  should  go  upon  it.  It  fell 
to  my  lot,  and  I  at  once  started. 

As  it  was  early  in  the  morning,  I  encountered  no  persons 
upon  the  road.  On  reaching  the  house  I  rapped  moderately  at 
the  door.  Mrs.  Childs  first  looked  at  me  through  the  window, 
and  then  admitted  me.  I  first  told  her  I  was  one  of  those  who 
had  called  at  the  house  before  day.  I  then  asked  her  if  her 
husband  had  got  home.  She  answered  that  he  had  not.  I  asked 
when  she  expected  him.  She  answered  that  he  would  be  at 
home  by  ten  o'clock  in  the  day.  She  then  inquired  what  busi- 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDEEAL  PRISONERS.  86 

ness  we  were  on,  and  what  we  wanted  with  her  husband.  I  told 
her  we  had  been  prisoners  of  war  at  Danville,  and  had  been  try- 
ing for  over  two  weeks  to  make  our  way  through  the  Confederacy 
to  the  Federal  forces.  I  told  her  of  our  stopping  at  Paxton's, 
and  of  his  directing  us  to  Robert  Childs.  At  this  Mrs.  Ghilds 
seemed  surprised,  and  remarked  that  Paxton  would  better  be  in 
other  business  than  giving  aid  to  Federals.  Mrs.  Childs  talked 
very  much  like  a  Rebel,  and  though  I  could  hardly  understand 
the  situation,  I  felt  no  uneasiness.  After  further  talking  I  asked 
her  if  she  could  furnish  us  something  to  eat.  She  said  she 
supposed  she  could,  but  wasn't  in  the  habit  of  feeding  rov- 
ing squads  of  soldiers.  She  then  asked  me  to  sit  up  to  the 
table  and  eat  with  her;  but  I  declined,  telling  her  if  she  would 
allow  me  to  carry  a  dishful  to  the  woods,  and  share  it  with  my 
comrades,  I  would  be  thankful.  Mrs.  Childs  and  her  children 
eat  their  breakfast,  while  I  sat  by  keeping  up  the  talk  with  her. 
Shortly  after  finishing  her  meal,  Mrs.  Childs  gathered  what  she 
had  left  on  a  large  dish  and  gave  it  to  me.  I  thanked  her,  and 
told  her  there  must  be  a  mistake  somewhere,  as  we  had  found 
things  very  different  from  what  Paxton  had  represented. 

"  Paxton  do  n't  know  every  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Childs. 

"Time  alone  will  settle  the  matter,"  said  I.  I  told  the 
woman  where  we  were  hid,  and  asked  her  to  send  her  husband 
to  see  us  when  he  returned.  She  answered  that  she  would  do  so. 

"If  you  will,"  said  I,  "we  shall  have  a  friendly  talk  with 
him,  do  him  no  harm,  and  send  your  dish  back  to  you." 

I  then  returned  to  our  retreat  in  the  woods.  On  the  w.ay  I 
felt,  from  some  cause,  that  Paxton  was  not  mistaken  in  his  opinion 
of  Mrs.  Childs,  and  that  some  recent  development  had  made 
necessary  her  avowal  of  disunion  sentiments.  We  found  the 
provisions  furnished  by  Mrs.  Childs  very  acceptable,  whether  she 
was  a  secessionist  or  not.  After  finishing  our  meal  we  spent  the 
time  in  conjecturing  the  cause  of  Mrs.  Childs's  strange  conduct, 
if  she  was  really  a  Union  woman.  We  became  satisfied  that,  for 
some  reason  yet  to  be  explained,  she  had  only  pretended  to  be  a 
devotee  of  the  Confederacy. 

Near   noon   Robert   Childs  came   to  us   in  the  woods.     He 


86  A   STORY   OF   THE   WAR. 

approached  us  with  extreme  caution,  and  looked  as  if  he  would 
rather  not  see  us.  We  talked  with  him  an  hour  or  more. 
During  the  whole  conversation  he  upheld  the  Confederacy.  He 
could  not  imagine  how  Paxton  got  the  impression  he  was  a  Union 
man  or  a  disloyal  citizen.  We  asked  Childs  if  he  should  take 
any  steps  to  recapture  us.  He  replied  that  he  would  do  nothing 
either  to  help  or  hinder  us.  To  this  we  replied,  that  we  could 
ask  no  more  from  a  "  Secesh."  He  started  home  when  we  gave 
him  the  dish,  and  told  him  we  were  grateful  to  his  wife  and  to 
him  for  what  we  had  received  from  them.  We  urged  Childs  to 
call  on  us  again  before  night.  He  said  he  would  if  he  had  time, 
and  then  went  homeward; 

Near  four  o'clock,  P.  M.,  he  came  out  again  to  see  us,  and 
remained  with  us  until  near  sunset.  The  tenor  of  his  conver- 
sation was  the  same  as  in  the  morning.  He  had  no  word  of  en- 
couragement to  give  us,  and,  of  course,  offered  us  no  assistance. 
It  was  growing  late,  and  we  began  getting  ready  to  travel.  We 
continued  talking  with  Childs,  however,  and  Smith  said  to  him, 

"I  suppose  you  have  n't  reported  us,  have  you?" 

"I've  seen  nobody  to  report  to,"  he  answered. 

"  Has  n't  any  one  been  to  mill  ?"  inquired  Smith. 

"0,  one  or  two,"  answered  Childs,  "but  they  were  in  a  hurry, 
and  did  n't  stay  long?" 

"  You  did  n't  say  any  thing  about  us,  then  ?"  asked  Wood. 

"I  did  n't  say  a  word  about  you  to  any  body,"  said  Childs. 

Sutherland  then  said,  "  I  '11  be  switched  if  I  do  n't  believe  he 
is  a  Union  man  after  all." 

Childs  manifesting  some  uneasiness,  then  said  in  an  em- 
phatic manner,  "  Do  n't  fool  yourselves  about  that,  boys." 

Sutherland  then  asked,  "Did  you  ever  see  or  hear  of  any 
Yankee  prisoners  escaping  through  here  before  ?" 

Childs  said  he  had  heard  of  a  squad  passing  through  about 
six  weeks  before. 

"  How  many  were  there  in  the  squad  ?"  Smith  inquired. 

"Only  two,  I  believe,"  was  the  reply. 

"I'll  bet,"  said  Smith,  "they  were  Davis  and  Tige;  they 
,eft  the  hospital  about  two  months  ago." 


ESCAPE,  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  ,  87 

Childs  seemed  to  evince  unusual  interest  in  this  remark  of 
Smith's.     Sutherland   then   said,   "I   wonder-  where  Davis  and 
Tige  are  by  this  time  ?" 
c     "  O,  they  've  got  through  before  now,"  I  replied. 

"  Unless  they  've  been  caught  and  sent  back,"  added  Suther- 
land. 

Childs  then  inquired  rather  anxiously  who  Davis  and  Tige 
were.  We  told  him  who  they  were,  where  we  had  known  them, 
and  described  them  particularly.  Davis  had  been  steward  at 
the  hospital  near  Danville,  and  Tige  had  been  a  nurse.  Childs 
then  recanted  his  secession  doctrines,  and  confessed  he  was  a 
Union  man,  and  had  harbored  Davis  and  Tige  for  three  or  four 
days.  He  also  explained  in  full  the  reasons  for  his  conduct  to- 
ward us  in  pretending  to  be  a  Rebel. 

It  seems  the  Confederate  commander  in  that  district — General 
Echols,  I  think  it  was — had  adopted  a  plan  of  ascertaining  who 
were  aiding  Federal  prisoners  in'  their  efforts  to  escape.  He  had 
dressed  small  squads  of  his  men  in  tattered  Federal  uniforms, 
armed  them  with  weapons  concealed  about  their  persons,  and  had 
sent  them  over  the  country  to  such  persons  as  were  suspected 
of  Unionism ;  to  whom  they  would  apply  for  food  and  other  as- 
sistance in  making  their  way  to  the  Union  lines.  These  squads 
were  called  "bogus  Yankees"  by  the  Union  people,  who  learned 
to  keep  continually  on  the  guard  against  falling  victims  to  their 
deceptive  practices.  Many  true  Union  citizens  of  the  South 
were  made  prisoners  by  the  "  bogus  Yankees,"  taken  from  their 
homes,  and  imprisoned  at  Richmond,  Atlanta,  and  other  points, 
for  many  months. 

Childs  thought  we  were  "bogus,"  and  was  glad  enough  to 
help  us  when  he  found  the  contrary  was  true.  Paxton  had  not 
yet  learned  of  the  "bogus  Yankees,"  and  Childs  had  only  been 
put  on  his  guard  a  day  or  two  before  by  hearing  of  the  arrest 
and  carrying  off  in  irons  of  one  of  his  Union  friends,  who  had 
the  misfortune  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  impostors.  Childs 
said  he  would  take  it  upon  himself  to  go  and  see  his  friend  Pax- 
ton,  and  warn  him  of  the  danger  of  playing  into  false  hands. 
Robert  Childs,  in  treating  us  as  he  had,  only  thought  he  was 


88  A  STORY   OF  THE   WAR. 

evading  arrest  and  a  hopeless  imprisonment.  He  first  assured 
himself  of  our  genuineness ;  then,  knowing  our  actual  need  of  as- 
sistance, he  did  not  -withhold  it.  It  was  purely  accidental — per- 
haps Providential — that  our  real  character  became  known  to 
Childs.  The  allusion  to  Davis  and  Tige  was  the  merest  accident 
in  the  world,  but  proved  sufficiently  powerful  to  dispel  the  mys- 
tery we  had  been  unable  to  solve. 

The  day,  March  7th,  was  drawing  to  its  close.  It  was  time 
for  us  to  resume  our  secret  march.  Before  we  set  out  Childs 
went  to  his  house  and  brought  us  enough  provisions  for  one  meal, 
which  was  all  that  we  required,  as  he  then  gave  us  particular 
directions  as  to  how  we  should  find  the  house  of  David  Hepler, 
another  good  Union  man,  only  eight  miles  away.  We  then  parted 
with  Childs,  who  had  so  recently  proved  our  friend,  in  a  better 
mood  than  we  had  anticipated  an  hour  before.  We  were  sorry 
we  could  remain  no  longer  with  him  after  he  had  found  us  also 
true,  and  of  the  number  in  whom  he  could  confide. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  HAD  NO  HORNS  LATELY  " — WE  REACH  HEPLER'S HE  IS   ON  HIS  GUARD — WE  KNOW  HOW 

TO  TAKK  HIM — SUPPER  AND  LODGING ADIEU  TO  HEPLER — WE  GO  TO  LEWIS'S  HOUSE — 

LEWIS  NOT  AT  HOME — TROUBLE  AT  LEWIS'S  HOUSE — ITS  OCCUPANTS  PROPOSE  MAKING 
US  PRISONERS — WE  PROPOSE  DIFFERENTLY — NEITHER  PARTY  ACTS — ONE-SIDED  MIS- 
UNDERSTANDING— AN  UNDERSTANDING  NOT  ATTAINABLE — WE  RETURN  TO  HEPLER — HK 

DREADS  TO  SEE  US — HE  IS  SOON  ALL    RIGHT   AGAIN HE  ASCERTAINS  LEWIS'S  FATE — IS 

UNABLE  TO  SECURE  US  A  GUIDE — WE  ARE  PRONOUNCED  "SPURIOUS  " — FINAL  ADIEU  TO 
HEPLER — WE  RETURN  TO  LEWIS'S  HOUSE — GET  PROVISION  THERE  AND  SOMETHING 
MOKE — FURTHER  TRAVELS OUR  MATCHES  LOST WE  BEACH  GBEENBRIER  RIVER-- 
COME UNEXPECTEDLY  TO  TWO  WOMEN — THEY  SEND  US  TO  MRS.  MANN'S — WE  BEST 
OURSELVES — VOLUNTEER  GUIDE. 

IT  was  near  sunset  when  we  separated  from  Childs.     Just  be- 
fore dark  we  felt  uncertain  as  to  whether  we  had  not  got  off 
the  route  to  Hepler's.     As  there  was  a  house  a  short  distance 
to  our  left,   we  concluded  to  inquire  the  way,  as  we  preferred 
risking  a  little  to  getting  bewildered  in  the  darkness.     We  found 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  89 

one  young  woman  and  two  older  ones  at  the  house.  On  seeing 
us  they  seemed  badly  scared,  and  were  about  to  forsake  their 
dwelling  as  we  entered  it,  leaving  us  in  full  possession.  After 
some  entreaty  on  our  part,  the  young  woman  came  in  cautiously 
and  deferentially,  and  was  followed  by  the  older  ones.  Our  in- 
quiries were  principally  addressed  to  the  young  woman,  the  older 
ones  standing  near  gazing  in  mute  astonishment.  In  the  course 
of  the  talk  we  had  occasion  to  acknowledge  that  we  were 
Yankees,  when  one  of  the  old  women  blurted  out,  "  I  'd  say !  I 
thought  they  had  horns." 

"  We  do  have,  sometimes,"  said  Wood,  "but  not  lately." 
On  gaining  the  information  desired,  we  resumed  our  journey. 
By  eight  o'clock  we  had  traversed  the  rough,  broken  country  ly- 
ing between  Childs's  and  Hepler's  house.  We  found  Hepler  on 
the  look  out  for  false  Unionists ;  but  as  Childs  had  told  us  Davis 
and  Tige  had  been  befriended  by  him — Hepler— we  found  no  diffi- 
culty in  proving  our  genuineness  to  him.  Near  nine  o'clock  we 
took  supper  at  Hepler's  table,  and  after  a  two  hours'  talk,  we 
were  comfortably  lodged  in  his  house.  After  breakfasting  the 
next  morning,  having  got  ready  to  set  forth  again  on  our  jour- 
ney, we  bade  Hepler's  family  adieu,  and  he  conducted  us  to  the 
top  of  a  lofty  range  of  mountains,  at  the  base  of  which  his  house 
stood.  Having  reached  the  highest  elevation  in  the  mountain, 
Hepler  pointed  out  to  us  another  range  upon  which  the  home  of 
William  Lewis  was  situated.  The  exact  locality  of  Lewis's 
house  was  pointed  out,  although  we  could  scarcely  see  it,  and 
were  eight  and  a  half  miles  distant.  Hepler  told  us  we  could 
go  to  Lewis's  in  day-time  without  much  risk,  but  it  would  be 
impossible  for  strangers  to  go  over  the  route  by  night.  He  also 
informed  us  that  it  was  probable  we  could  get  Lewis  to  guide 
us  a  portion  of,  if  not  all,  the  way  to  the  Federal  lines.  On 
hearing  some  further  instructions  to  enable  us  to  find  our  way 
more  easily,  we  bade  our  friend  adieu,  and  left  him.  It  was 
fully  ten  o'clock  in  the  day  when  we  set  out  on  our  journey  to 
Lewis's  house.  We  crossed  two  ridges,  as  many  valleys,  and 
many  small  rivulets  of  the  mountains  before  reaching  our  object- 
ive point.  On  commencing  the  ascent  of  a  third  ridge,  we 


90  .  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

found  a  path  of  which.  Hepler  had  spoken.  We  then  knew  we 
were  on  the  ridge  upon  which  we  would  find  the  house  of  a 
friend.  We  took  the  path  as  a  guide,  and  followed  its  devious 
course.  When  little  more  than  half- way  up  the  mountain  side 
we  met  two  men  and  a  woman  and  child.  The  men  were  on 
foot.  The  woman,  with  her  child  in  her  arms,  was  on  horseback. 
The  largest  man  was  carefully  leading  the  horse  down  the  mount- 
ain path.  No  word  was  spoken  at  this  meeting,  each  party 
maintaining 'silence  and  casting  suspicious  glances  at  the  other. 
Soon  after  we  gained  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and  came  in  sight  of 
Lewis's  house,  situated  in  a  bowl-shaped  depression  in  the  top 
of  the  mountain.  We  did  not  wish  to  go  to  the  house  while  it 
was  yet  day,  for  fear  of  finding  some  Secessionist  there,  and  thus 
placing  Lewis  as  well  as  ourselves  in  an  embarrassing  situation; 
We  went  aside  from  the  path  nearly  two  'hundred  yards,  and 
hid  in  the  brush.  We  found  we  had  stopped  in  a  place  from 
which  we  could  watch  the  house.  Our  position  also  commanded 
a  view  of  the  path  we  had  just  left,  and  of  persons  that  might 
pass  upon  it. 

It  was  near  four  o'clock,  P.  M.,  when  we  halted.  We  kept 
our  eyes  at  intervals  on  the  house  and  its  immediate  surround- 
ings, but  saw  no  person  during  the  evening.  One  dog,  a  calf> 
and  a  few  chickens,  were  the  only  living  objects  visible.  The 
doors  of  the  house  were  closed,  and  we  concluded  Lewis  and  his 
family  had  gone  from  home ;  but  as  smoke  was  issuing  from  the 
chimney,  we  hoped  they  would  return  by  dark.  We  feared  the 
man  we  had  met  leading  the  horse  was  Lewis'  with  his  family, 
going  with  a  friend  to  make  a  visit.'  If  so,  we  should  be  delayed, 
we  thought,  in  our  journey,  and  be  compelled  to  push  on  without 
seeing  him.  We  decided  to  wait  until  dark  in  our  hiding-place, 
and  see  if  Lewis  would  return.  Just  after  sunset  the  man  we 
had  met  on  the  mountain,  leading  the  horse,  went  along  the  path 
to  Lewis's  premises.  He  was  leading  a  horse,  and  was  accom- 
panied by  two  other  men,  each  leading  horses.  They  first  put 
their  horses  in  the  stable  and  fed  them.  They  then  chopped 
some  wood  at  the  wood-pile  and  carried  it  to  the  house.  Dark- 
ness came  on,  and  we  saw  sparks  flying  from  the  chimney  top. 


ESCAPE.  OF  SIX   FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  91 

Feelings  of  joyous  gratitude  heaved  our  bosoms  as  we  felt  cer- 
tain we  should  soon  meet  Lewis  and  enjoy  the  company  and  con- 
solations of  a  native  thorough-bred  Union  man.  We  were 
destined  to  meet  with  disappointment,  however,  and  to  experience 
difficulties  from  which  a  mere  allusion  to  Davis  and  Tige  would 
not  relieve  us. 

In  less  than  an  hour  after  dark  we  left  our  position  in  the 
thicket  and  went  to  the  house.  We  knocked  three  times  before 
we  were  told  to  come  in.  With  a  show  of  reluctance  on  the 
part  of  the  three  men,  we  were  furnished  seats  near  the  fire. 
Wood,  addressing  the  largest  of  the  men,  asked,  "  Your  name  is 
Lewis,  I  suppose?" 

"  No,  but  Lewis  is  a  brother-in-law  of  mine,"  was  the  an- 
swer. 

"  Well,  this  is  Lewis's  house,  is  it  ?"  Wood  asked.  "We  were 
told  it  was." 

"  Where  is  Lewis  ?"  inquired  Sutherland. 

"  I  do  n't  know,"  said  the  man,  "  he  has  n't  been  at  home  for 
several  days." 

"What's  your  name?"  continued  Sutherland. 

"  My  name  is  Hepler." 

"Are  you  akin  to  David  Hepler  ?"  Sutherland  asked. 

"Yes,  David  Hepler  is  my  father,"  replied  the  man,  at  the 
same  time  turning  very  pale. 

Judging  Hepler  was  fearful  some  great  calamity  had  befallen 
his  father  through  the  agency  of  "  bogus  Yankees,"  I  said,  "  You 
think  we  are  Eebels,"  and  Smith  immediately  added,  "  We  have 
not  harmed  a  hair  of  your  father's  head." 

We  assured  Hepler  we  were  real  Union  soldiers,  honestly 
endeavoring  to  make  our  way  from  prison  to  our  lines. 

"  I  don't  know  so  well  about  that,"  said  Hepler,  "but  as  for 
myself,  I  belong  to  the  Confederate  army." 

We  then  told  him  we  knew  he  belonged  to  the  Confederate 
army,  and  knew,  too,  that  he  was  a  Union  man,  having  been 
informed  of  those  facts  by  his  father.  David  Hepler  had  told  us 
how  his  son,  in  the  earlier  months  of  the  war,  had  hid  himself 
among  the  rocks  and  caverns  of  the  mountains  for  more  than 


92  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

eighteen  months,  and  how  at  last  he  was  caught  by  the  Rebels, 
and  conscripted  into  the  army. 

We  spent  some  time,  two  hours  at  least,  in  trying  to  convince 
young  Hepler  we  were  not  "bogus,"  but  all  in  vain.  He  said 
he  knew  what  he  was,  and  supposed  we  knew  what  we  were,  and 
was  going  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  Federal  prisoners,  unless 
it  would  be  to  catch  them  and  take  them  to  Jim  Crow's.  As  he 
spoke  thus  he  directed  our  attention  to  a  stack  of  guns  in  the 
corner. 

"  There  's  as  many  of  us  as  there  is  of  you,"  suggested  Wood, 
"  when  it  comes  to  that." 

"  Jim  Crow's  "  was  a  small  town  a  few  miles  distant,  as  we 
afterward  learned. 

We  became  satisfied  that  our  efforts  to  procure  assistance,  or 
derive  information  from  young  Hepler  and  his  associates  would 
prove  unavailing,  as  they  refused  to  answer  our  questions  as  to 
the  roads,  the  streams,  or  the  nature  of  the  country  west  and 
north  of  us,  and  refused  us  the  shelter  of  the  house  until  morn- 
ing. We,  however,  understood  the  situation  perfectly,  knowing 
that  the  only  difficulty  with  us  was  our  inability  to  furnish  satis- 
factory proof  of  our  genuineness  as  real  "  Yankees."  Hepler 
having  been  absent  in  the  service,  knew  nothing  of  Davis  and 
Tige,  or  of  the  aid  his  father  had  rendered  them,  and  our  telling 
him  of  them  was  of  no  avail.  We  could  not  establish  our  char- 
acter as  escaping  Federals  to  the  satisfaction  of  those  who,  we 
knew,  would  have  been  our  friends  could  we  have  done  so,  but 
were  compelled  to  leave  them  under  the  impression  we  were  really 
soldiers  of  the  Confederacy. 

Near  eleven  o'clock  that  night,  March  8th,  we  left  the  house 
of  Lewis  not  a  little  discomfited.  Where  we  had  expected  as- 
sistance and  encouragement  we  met  only  with  disappointment 
and  defeat.  We  felt  our  defeat  more  keenly  in  consequence  of 
the  certainty  we  felt  that  Hepler  and  his  associates  would  have 
been  quite  willing,  even  anxious,  to  aid  us  on  our  way  had  they 
been  assured  beyond  a  doubt  as  to  our  real  character. 

After  we  had  gone  out  of  the  house  we  halted  at  the  fence, 
a  few  steps  from  the  door,  and  consulted  briefly  as  to  the  course 


AT  LEWIS'S  HOUSE."—  I'A<;I-  93- 


ESCAPE.  OF  SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  93 

to  pursue.  Our  situation  was  critical  in  the  extreme.  We  were 
in  Alleghany  county,  in  the  midst  of  the  rugged  and  barren 
mountains,  where  the  country  was  thinly  inhabited.  We  had 
no  supplies  with  us,  as  we  had  left  David  Hepler's  expecting  to 
get  food  at  Lewis's.  We  soon  determined  to  return  to  David 
Hepler's,  tell  him  of  the  situation  at  Lewis's  house,  and  see  if 
he  could  give  us  other  directions  to  follow.  Smith  suggested 
that  young  Hepler  might  be  willing  to  go  with  us  to  his  father 
if  we  should  wait  until  morning.  Smith  called  to  him  to  come 
out,  saying,  "We  wish  to  talk  with  you." 

Hepler  did  not  come  out;  but  on  being  called  the  third  time 
he  came  to  the  door  and  said,  "Kill  me  in  the  house  if  you 
want  to ;  I  sha'  n't  come  out  there  to  be  killed." 

We  were  trying  to  assure  him  that  we  would  do  him  no  harm 
when  he  closed  the  door  in  our  faces  and  barred  it.  We  then 
started  away  from  the  house,  going  about  a  mile  east  of  it.  Near 
the  mountain  top  we  halted  until  daylight  of  March  9th.  The 
sky  was  overcast  with  clouds,  threatening  rain,  when  we  stopped, 
and  we  felt  very  much  disheartened.  Our  hopes  were  exultant 
before  going  to  Lewis's  house.  We  expected  to  get  assistance 
there,  and  possibly  a  guide  to  conduct  us  on  our  way;  but  all 
had  failed.  We  felt  we  had  been  turned  empty  away  from  the 
house  of  a  friend,  and  Nature  it  seemed  was  about  to  frown  on 
us.  We  came  near  regretting  the  start  we  had  made  from  prison. 
One  consolation,  however,  was  left  us;  if  there  was  any  change 
in  our  prospects  it  would  be  for  the  better. 

We  made  preparations  for  sleep,  but  there  was  little  sleep 
for  us  that  night.  Before  day  rain  commenced  falling,  and  we 
were  obliged  to  fold  our  blankets,  to  keep  them  as  dry  as  possible. 
We  leaned  against  trees,  and  so  disposed  our  coats  over  our 
shoulders  as  to  shed  most  of  the  rain  off  until  daylight.  As 
soon  as  we  could  see  our  way  plainly  we  set  out  on  our  return 
to  David  Hepler's.  We  had  a  very  disagreeable  time  in  walking 
over  the  mountains  in  a  drenching  rain  shower.  We  reached 
Hepler's  just  at  twelve  o'clock.  We  found  him  at  home.  He 
was  very  much  surprised,  even  astonished,  at  seeing  us  again. 
He  even  dreaded  to  see  us,  as  he  at  once  concluded  his  time  had 


94  A   STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 


to  surrender  himself  a  prisoner  into  the  hands  of  sham 
Yankees,  his  country's  worst  enemies.  We  soon  explained  to 
him  the  reason  for  our  return,  telling  him  all  that  had  trans- 
pired since  separating  from  him  the  morning  before.  He  im- 
mediately conjectured  that  Lewis  had  fallen  a  victim  to  "  bogus 
Yankees,"  and  said  he  would  go  to-morrow  to  see  his  son,  with 
whom  we  had  met  at  Lewis's  house,  and  ascertain  what  had  be- 
come of  him.  After  taking  dinner  with  Hepler's  family  we  went 
some  distance  up  the  mountain-side  and  hid  ourselves  among  the 
rocks.  The  rain  continued;  but  we  could  not  shelter  under 
Hepler's  roof,  as  it  would  not  do,  either  for  Hepler  or  ourselves, 
to  be  found  there  by  Rebel  citizens.  Near  night  our  suppers 
were  brought  to  us  by  Hepler.  Soon  after  dark  we  took  refuge 
from  the  storm  in  a  small  log  hut  near  the  road,  which  passed 
through  Hepler's  premises.  Early  in  the  morning  of  March  10th 
we  breakfasted  at  Hepler's  table,  and  soon  after  hid  for  the  day 
among,  the  rocks  of  the  mountains.  At  noon  our  dinner  was 
brought  to  us  by  Hepler's  wife  and  daughter. 

At  night  Hepler  brought  our  suppers  out,  and  reported  the 
information  he  had  received  from  his  son  concerning  Lewis.  As 
had  been  conjectured,  a  squad  of  Confederates  had  called  at 
Lewis's  house,  and  solicited  his  services  as  a  guide  to  conduct 
them  to  the  Union  lines.  As  they  were  dressed  in  blue,  and 
represented  themselves  as  Federal  prisoners  trying  to  escape, 
Lewis  consented  to  conduct  them  as  far  as  Greenbrier  River. 
After  the  necessary  preparations,  he  started  with  them  from  his 
house,  and,  when  only  a  few  hundred  yards  away,  these  "bogus 
Yankees  "  suddenly  presented  their  revolvers  and  made  him  their 
prisoner.  His  captors  conducted  him  to  White  Sulphur  Springs, 
and  from  that  place  he  was  sent,  in  company  with  three  or  four 
others,  under  a  strong  guard,  to  Richmond. 

David  Hepler's  son  was  a  brother-in-law  of  Lewis.  At  the 
time  we  were  at  Lewis's  house,  young  Hepler  and  those  with 
him  had  come  there  to  get  the  household  goods  belonging  to  the 
family,  intending  to  carry  them  over  the  mountain  on  horses  the 
next  morning.  It  was  young  Hepler,  with  Lewis's  wife  and 
child,  accompanied  by  another  person,  that  we  had  met  on  the 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  95 

mountain.  Mrs.  Lewis  and  her  child,  and  the  plunder,  were 
moved  to  her  father's  house,  to  remain  during  her  husband's 
captivity,  or  longer  if  he  died.  Had  young  Hepler  known  we 
were  not  "  bogus,"  and  not  trying  to  deceive  him,  we  could  have 
had  all  the  provisions  we  desired  when  at  Lewis's  house,  and 
could  have  been  sheltered  there  until  morning.  But,  unhappily, 
we  had  been  unable  to  convince  him  of  our  honesty  of  purpose, 
and  as  he  was  determined  to  avoid  the  calamity  which  had  be- 
fallen his  brother-in-law,  he  felt  obliged  to  deny  us  all  "aid  and 
comfort." 

In  the  evening  of  March  10th  the  rain  ceased-  and  the 
weather  became  cooler.  On  the  morning  of  the  llth  the  mount- 
ains were  covered  with  snow.  During  the  day  the  snow  melted 
away,  and  the  mountain  streams  became  swollen  and  almost  im- 
passable. While  waiting  for  the  waters  to  subside,  we  mended 
our  shoes  and  other  clothing,  and  washed  our  shirts.  The  pegs 
and  other  materials  for  cobbling  were  furnished  by  Hepler.  We 
parched  a  quantity  of  corn,  to  carry  with  us  on  going  forth  anew 
on  our  journey.  During  our  stay  Hepler  tried  to  procure  a 
guide  to  conduct  us  to  the  lines,  but  failed.  One  man  whom  he 
tried  to  enlist  in  our  behalf,  although  a  good  Union  man,  refused 
to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  us,  alleging  we  would  yet  prove 
spurious.  Hepler  would  have  guided  us  as  far  as  the  Greenbrier 
Eiver,  had  not  his  aged  parents,  who  were  in  a  feeble  condition, 
been  under  his  care. 

On  the  morning  of  March  12th  we  took  leave  of  Hepler  and 
his  family.  In  our  most  cheerless  hour  of  adversity  we  had 
found  with  them  a  harboring  place.  They  befriended  us  when 
we  were  encompassed  by  enemies  and  suspected  by  friends. 
During  the  days  of  rain  and  snow,  and  swollen  streams,  we  in- 
curred a  debt  we  can  not  easily  repay.  We  are  under  lasting 
obligations  to  them.  Having  been  provided  with  sufficient  food 
to  last  us  two  days,  we  set  out  for  the  lines  afresh.  Hepler 
could  send  us  to  no  one  who  could  direct  us  on  our  way,  and  we 
went  westward  until  we  came  to  Lewis's  house.  We  reached  it 
before  three  o'clock  in  the  evening.  We  watched  in  its  vicinity 
for  over  an  hour,  and  saw  no  one ;  not  even  the  dog,  the  calf,  or 


96  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

smoke  curling  from  the  chimney,  could  be  seen  as  when  we  had 
watched  it  before.  We  went  to  it,  and  finding  the  doors  securely 
fastened,  we  judged  there  was  something  inside  worth  looking 
after.  We  thought  we  might  get  a  supply  of  provisions  that 
would  partially  compensate  us  for  the  disappointment  of  our  first 
visit  to  the  house.  We  entered  it  through  the  window,  and 
levied  on  all  we  could  find  that  would  do  to  eat.  A  small  sack 
nearly  full  of  meal,  a  cup  of  salt,  a  part  of  a  ham  of  meat  and 
a  ham  of  venison,  were  obtained  as  the  fruits  of  our  seizure. 
We  got  out  of  the  house  with  our  commissary  stores,  taking  an 
iron  pot  .with  us,  and  went  west  about  a  mile  into  a  gorge 
through  which  ran  a  small  stream  of  water.  Here  we  halted, 
built  a  fire,  and  made  mush  by  the  quantity.  After  eating  to 
our  satisfaction,  we  had  enough  left  for  breakfast  the  next  morn- 
ing. By  ten  o'clock  that  night  we  had  made  our  arrangements 
for  a  comfortable  sleep.  We  rested  well. 

With  the  first  dawning  of  morning  light  on  the  13th,  Wood 
and  Sutherland  returned  to  Lewis's  house^  and  got  four  case- 
knives,  one  for  each  of  our  party,  a  file,  and  a  tin  cup.  The 
file  we  thought  would  be  of  use  in  loosening  canoes  or  in  opening 
smoke-houses  as  a  last  resort  in  procuring  food.  We  completed 
our  preparations  for  the  day's  travel,  and  were  on  our  way 
shortly  after  sunrise.  The  country  traversed  was  very  rough 
and  mountainous,  being  little  more  than  a  barren  waste.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  for  us  to  have  made  our  way  over 
it  in  the  night-time.  We  saw  no  person  during  the  day.  When 
following  high  ridges  we  occasionally  saw  huts  and  houses  in  the 
valley  on  either  side  below  us.  Sometimes  we  could  see  smoke 
when  the  house  or  chimney  from  which  it  came  was  concealed. 
Just  after  sunset  we  halted  in  a  depression  of  the  ridge  we  had 
been  following,  prepared  our  suppers,  and  made  ready  for  the 
night's  rest.  As  near  as  we  could  estimate,  we  had  traveled 
during  the  day  about  fourteen  miles  in  a  north-west  course.  The 
night  was  passed  in  quiet  sleep. 

On  the  morning  of  the  14th  we  awoke  before  day.  On  get- 
ting up  we  rebuilt  our  fire,  and  hastily  prepared  our  breakfast. 
Soon  after  we  were  equipped  for  our  day's  journey.  We  were 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  97 

in  excellent  spirits.  We  could  but  contrast  our  feelings  with 
those  we  had  experienced  in  the  early  morning,  after  our  signal 
disappointment  at  Lewis's  house.  Then  we  were  discouraged  and 
baffled,  now  we  were  cheerful  and  hopeful.  The  sky  was  clear, 
the  air  was  pure  and  bracing,  and  we  made  good  progress.  We 
traveled  quite  fifteen  miles  in  a  direction  a  little  north  of  west, 
over  the  ridges,  valleys,  and  streams  of  the  mountain  districts. 
At  night  we  halted  in  the  valley,  where  water  was  convenient. 
After  making  a  fire,  we  spent  an  hour  or  more  in  preparing  and 
eating  our  suppers.  Our  sleep  during  the  night  was  refreshing. 

Before  sunrise  on  the  15th  we  had  finished  our  breakfast. 
Our  provisions  were  not  yet  exhausted,  and  there  was  no  need 
of  running  any  risks  in  replenishing  our  stock.  We  traveled 
only  about  six  miles  before  discovering  that  the  country  became 
more  open  and  more  thickly  settled.  It  was  prudent  for  us  to 
go  no  further  in  day-time.  We  accordingly  looked  about  for  a 
safe  retreat  for  the  residue  of  the  day.  After  finding  a  place  in 
the  woods  in  which  we  thought  we  could  trust  ourselves,  we 
devoted  the  greater  part  of  the  day  to  sleep,  as  we  expected  to 
travel  at  night.  Just  at  dark  we  were  ready  to  move.  The 
first  thing  necessary  on  settihg  out  was  to  find  a  road  on  which 
to  travel.  Our  jou'rneyings  of  the  past  three  days  had  been  off 
the  roads,  across  mountains  and  valleys,  in  a  rough,  broken 
country,  almost  inaccessible  to  travelers  except  on  foot  or  on 
horseback.  We  found  much  difficulty  in  finding  a  road  that 
would  lead  us  aright.  We  kept  on  the  move,  however,  taking 
care  that  our  steps  should  be  toward  the  goal  we  wished  to  gain. 

A  little  after  midnight  we  halted,  as  the  sky  became  cloudy, 
and  we  could  not  see  our  way  plainly  before  us.  We  went  some 
distance  north  of  the  last  road  we  had  been  following,  and  made 
our  bed  in  the  woods.  Very  soon  after  lying  down  we  fell 
asleep.  On  waking  up  on  the  morning  of  the  16th,  we  found 
the  ground  covered  with  snow.  Getting  up  we  found  the  air 
very  cool.  We  set  about  collecting  suitable  material  for  building 
a  fire,  but  on  searching  for  our  matches  we  found  we  had  lost 
them.  As  it  was  too  cool  for  comfort  without  briskly  exercising 
ourselves,  we  determined  to  set  out  in  a  northern  direction. 

7 


98  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

After  getting  our  things  in  readiness  we  started  through  the 
woods.  We  had  proceeded  but  little  more  than  a  mile  before 
we  reached  an  open  space.  In  crossing  it  we  noticed  not  far  to 
our  left,  just  beyond  the  crest  of  a  hill,  a  small  log  cabin.  Smoke 
was  issuing  from  the  mud  and  stick  chimney  and  curling  gently 
upward.  After  a  moment's  deliberation  we  concluded  we  should 
hazard  little  in  visiting  the  tenants  of  this  humble  abode  and 
warming  at  their  fire.  We  did  so,  and  found  the  two  women 
and  one  boy  whom  we  found  there  to  be  friendly  and  disposed 
to  make  us  comfortable.  While  waiting  half  an  hour  for  a  warm 
breakfast  we  learned  we  were  in  Greenbrier  county,  and  within 
three  miles  of  the  Greenbrier  River.  Having  ascertained  that 
the  folks  were  Unionists,  we  questioned  them  concerning  the* 
people  in  the  surrounding  country.  We  learned  that  the  Rebel 
element  held  sway  and  that  the  few  Union  people  were  obliged 
to  keep  their  sentiments  to  themselves. 

Breakfast  over,  we  set  out  again  on  our  travels.  Before 
leaving  the  cabin  we  discovered  that  snow  had  commenced  fall- 
ing. We  had  not  gone  far  until  the  large  flakes  almost  blinded 
us  as  they  fell.  We  felt  certain  no  one  would  be  out  on  such  a 
wintery  day,  and  we  thought  we  should  incur  but  little  risk  in 
pushing  forward  to  the  river.  Near  ten  o'clock  we  reached  it, 
and  began  looking  up  and  down  the  bank  for  a  canoe  in  which 
to  cross.  After  the  snow  had  almost  ceased  falling,  we  were  pass- 
ing through  a  sugar-camp  and  came  suddenly  to  two  women,  who 
were  turning  the  troughs  over.  As  they  had  seen  us  plainly, 
we  being  within  a  few  yards  of  them  when  we  first  noticed  them, 
we  did  not  try  to  avoid  them.  We  approached  nearer  the  women, 
and  one  of  our  party  made  some  observation  on  the  state  of  the 
weather,  and  Sutherland  added,  "It's  a  bad  day  to  be  out." 
One  of  the  women,  smiling,  answered,  "I'll  guess  you  are  out 
a  good  piece  from  home." 

On  being  questioned  further,  we  told  the  women  who  we  were, 
where  we  were  from,  and  the  point  we  were  aiming  to  reach. 
They  told  us  their  "men  folks"  were  in  the  Kanawha  Valley, 
which  was  within  the  Union  lines.  We  were  not  long  in  assur- 
ing ourselves  that  the  women,  as  well  as  their  "  men  folks,"  were 


ESCAPE  OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  99 

strong  Unionists.  We  were  invited  to  the  house.  We  accepted 
the  invitation,  and  were  soon  seated  before  the  fire,  where  we 
remained  for  a  few  minutes.  Just  before  noon  the  women  told 
us  they  were  poor  and  unable  to  furnish  us  a  meal,  but  Mrs. 
Mann,  who  lived  about  a  mile  back  from  the  river,  was  not  only 
able,  but  willing  to  keep  us  over  until  the  following  night,  if  we 
wished  to  stop  so  long  as  that.  The  eldest  woman  had  already 
gone  to  Mrs.  Mann's  to  see  if  any  Secessionists  were  there.  She 
soon  returned,  accompanied  by  two  of  Mrs.  Mann's  little  boys, 
who  were  to  conduct  us  by  an  obscure  way  to  their  mother's 
house.  As  no  one  was  at  Mrs.  Mann's,  we  started  immediately 
to  her  house,  her  boys  leading  the  way.  These  boys  were  quite 
young — aged  about  nine  and  eleven  years — but  seemed  to  under- 
stand perfectly  the  necessity  of  our  keeping  out  of  sight  of  the 
Rebels. 

We  arrived  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Mann  by  one  o'clock.  A 
little  after  two  o'clock  we  took  dinner.  The  dinner  reminded  us 
of  the  days  gone  by,  and  made  us  think  we  were  almost  home 
again.  After  dinner  we  conversed  at  length  with  Mrs.  Mann 
and  her  family,  treating  mainly  of  the  war  as  it  affected  the 
Union  people  of  the  South.  Mrs.  Mann  had  been  despoiled  of 
much  property  during  the  war  by  Confederates;  and  soon  after 
the  breaking  out  of  hostilities  her  husband  had  been  arrested 
because  he  would  not  forsake  his  Union  principles.  He  had  been 
imprisoned  at  Richmond,  where,  after  lingering  a  few  months,  he 
died. 

In  the  evening  a  man  was  seen  approaching  the  house.  When 
he  was  near  enough  to  be  recognized  it  was  ascertained  that  he 
was  a  Rebel,  and  we  were  sent  upstairs  forthwith,  to  remain 
there  until  he  should  leave.  We  were  detained  nearly  an  hour 
upstairs,  when  the  "  Secesh "  having  taken  leave,  we  were 
permitted  to  come  down,  and  were  interrupted  no  more  that 
evening. 

A  little  after  dark  we  had  supper.  Soon  after  supper  we  be- 
gan our  preparations  for  setting  forth  on  our  way,  but  Mrs.  Mann 
urged  us  to  stop  until  the  following  night.  As  we  were  con- 
siderably worn  and  fatigued,  we  decided,  after  a  short  consul ta- 


100  A   STORY   OF   THE   WAR. 

tion,  to  do  so.  We  passed  the  night  of  March  16th  in  Mrs. 
Mann's  haymow.  We  could  not  stop  in  the  house  for  the  reason 
that  a  Rebel  doctor  from  Frankfort  was  expected  there  that 
night  to  see  a  sick  child.  On  the  morning  of  the  17th,  after  the 
doctor  had  gone,  we  returned  to  the  house  for  breakfast,  and  re- 
mained there  during  the  day.  When  any  one  was  seen  coming 
•we  went  upstairs,  being  very  careful  not  to  leave  any  caps  be- 
hind to  excite  inquiries. 

About  four  o'clock,  P.  M.,  a  young  man  called  at  Mrs.  Mann's, 
who  belonged  to  a  Union  family  west  of  the  river.  He  offered 
to  conduct  us,  after  dark,  to  a  man  who  would  guide  us  some 
distance  on  our  way,  and  give  us  directions  to  follow  which  woull 
lead  us  to  Gauley  River.  We  eagerly  accepted  the  offer.  Ou  r 
delay  of  twenty-four  hours,  it  seemed,  was  going  to  prove  profit- 
able. We  had  supper  just  at  dark,  and  soon  after  our  prepara 
tions  for  the  journey  were  complete.  Our  haversacks  were  fille/l 
with  food  sufficient  to  last  us  two  or  three  days.  We  tenderei 
our  sincere  thanks  to  Mrs.  Mann  and  family  for  generous  treat- 
ment received,  and  bade  them  farewell. 


CHAPTER.  VII. 

ABB  GUIDED  BY  WIGHT  TO  ALDERMAN — ALDERMAN  CONDUCTS  US  TWENTY  MILES  NEXT 
DAY — GIVES  US  PLAIN  DIRECTIONS — RETURNS  HOME — WE  FIND  ALDERMAN'S  BROTHER- 
IN-LAW,  WHO  PUTS  US  ON  THE  NORTH  SIDE  OP  GAULEY  RIVER — WE  FOLLOW  DOWN 
GAULEY  RITEB— PASS  THROUGH  SUMMERVILLE — COME  IN  CONTACT  WITH  AN  IRISH- 
MAN— RECEIVE  ADVICE  PROM  HIM  AND  FOLLOW  IT — WE  REACH  THE  PICKETS  AT 

GAULEY    BRIDGE — WE     RECUPERATE   AT   CAMP    REYNOLDS — GO   TO    CINCINNATI,    OHIO 

OO    HOME    ON    FURLOUGH. 

OUR  volunteer  guide  mounted  his  horse  and  started  to  the 
ford,  some  distance  up  the  river,  to  cross  it,  while  we  were 
conducted  to  a  point  below,  where  there  was  a  canoe,  by  Mrs. 
Mann's  two  boys.  On  reaching  the  river,  and  being  told  by  the 
boys  to  fasten  the  canoe  to  the  opposite  shore,  we  said  "good- 
by  "  to  them,  and  set  about  crossing.  In  about  twenty  minutes, 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PEISONERS.  101 

after  running  aground  two  or  three  times,  and  being  compelled 
to  get  out  into  the  water  to  set  the  canoe  afloat  again,  we  landed 
on  the  opposite  bank.  After  securing  the  canoe,  we  took  our 
shoes  and  socks  off,  drained  the  water  from  our  shoes  and  wrung 
our  socks  dry.  We  then  put  on  our  socks  and  shoes,  and  laced 
the  latter  securely,  and  hastened  to  join  our  guide  at  the  point 
previously  agreed  upon.  We  were  soon  on  the  way,  our  guide 
on  horseback  going  some  distance  in  advance  on  the  road.  In 
little  more  than  an  hour  we  reached  the  home  of  our  guide. 
We  waited  close  by  for  a  few  minutes  while  he  put  his  horse 
away.  He  then  conducted  us  on  foot  to  a  point  within  a  mile 
of  James  Alderman's  house,  and  then  he  returned  homeward. 

Following  instructions  we  had  received,  we  soon  reached  the 
house  of  the  man  whose  services  as  a  guide  we  expected  to  se- 
cure to  conduct  us  on  our  journey.  As  we  approached  it  the 
dogs  set  up  a  furious  barking.  Mrs.  Alderman  soon  succeeded 
in  quieting  the  dogs,  and  we  entered  the  house.  On  seeing  no 
one  but  the  woman,  we  asked  where  Alderman  was.  The  woman 
said  he  was  n't  at  home,  and  she  did  n't  know  exactly  where  he 
had  gone.  We  made  known  our  object  in  calling  at  such  a  late 
hour  in  the  night,  it  being  near  midnight.  Mrs.  Alderman  was 
evidently  alarmed  at  our  coming.  She  wished  to  know  how  we 
learned  that  Alderman  lived  there.  We  told  her  a  young  man 
named  Grillilau  had  piloted  us  to  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  and  di- 
rected us  how  to  find  the  house.  We  told  her  further  that  the 
young  man  had  informed  us  her  husband  would  conduct  us  a 
portion  of  the  way  to  the  Union  lines.  The  woman's  fear  seemed 
to  be  allayed  on  hearing  this,  and  she  stepped  out  the  door  and 
called  her  husband.  Mr.  Alderman  soon  made  his  appearance, 
but  acted  as  if  he  was  not  sure  we  were  there  on  an  honest 
errand.  When  his  dogs  commenced  barking  he  had  hurried  out 
of  bed,  and  gone  to  the  woods  to  secrete  himself — as  he  had 
often  done  before — from  the  Confederate  guards,  who  were  on 
the  watch  for  him  to  impress  him  into  the  service.  Our  business 
was  soon  made  known  to  Alderman,  and  he  consented  to  con- 
duct us  as  far  on  our  way  as  we  could  travel  by  four  o'clock  the 
next  day. 


102  A   STORY   OF   THE   WAR. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  we  made  our  bed  on  the  floor  of 
Alderman's  cabin,  to  rest  until  the  light  of  the  18th  dawned. 
By  sunrise  we  had  breakfasted,  and  were  on  the  way,  Mr. 
Alderman  going  ahead  of  us  several  steps.  Alderman  carried 
his  flint-lock  gun  with  him,  saying  he  "might  shoot  something 
before  he  got  back."  We  suggested  the  risk  in  traveling  by  day- 
light, but  Alderman  said  he  would  take  us  over  a  route  where 
we  would  be  seen  by  none  but  good  Union  people.  By  one 
o'clock  we  reached  a  house  where  lived  a  family  named  Ramsey. 
We  took  dinner  with  them.  Shortly  after  two  o'clock  we  set 
out  again  on  the  way.  One  of  the  Eamseys  gave  us  a  letter 
to  be  left  at  a  point  twenty  miles  east  of  Grauley  Bridge,  known 
as  the  Twenty-mile  House.  By  four  o'clock  we  had  reached  the 
small  stream  called  Cherry  Run,  where  we  halted  under  a  tem- 
porary shed  which  had  been  erected  by  hunters  for  shelter.  We 
had  no  matches,  and  Alderman  struck  fire  with  his  knife  from 
the  flint  of  his  gun  and  kindled  a  fire  for  us.  After  receiving 
from  Alderman  particular  directions  how  to  find  his  brother-in- 
law's  house,  on  the  north  side  of  Gauley  River,  he  left  us,  say- 
ing he  "  must  be  at  home  by  midnight." 

We  had  traveled  twenty  miles,  and  had  stopped  for  the  night 
in  a  dense  forest,  several  miles  from  any  house.  In  all  directions 
from  our  hiding-place  the  ground  was  deeply  marked  by  narrow 
paths  made  by  deer  going  back  and  forth  for  water.  We  made 
our  supper  on  the  supplies  brought  from  Mrs.  Mann's.  We  were 
in  a  place  where  we  would  not  be  likely  to  be  seen,  and  we  kept 
our  fire  burning  until  late  in  the  night.  Being  surrounded  by 
dense  and  darkening  woods,  with  nothing  to  break  the  almost 
perfect  stillness  of  the  night  but  the  murmurs  of  the  little  brook 
near  us,  we  felt  very  lonely,  more  so  than  we  had  felt  before 
on  our  travels.  By  ten  o'clock  we  were  soundly  sleeping. 

We  awoke  at  the  break  of  day  on  the  morning  of  March 
19th.  We  breakfasted  early  and  were  on  the  way  by  sunrise. 
We  had  only  to  follow  down  Cherry  Run  to  its  mouth  at  Cran- 
berry Creek,  and  then  follow  down  Cranberry  Creek  until  we 
came  to  a  road  crossing  it  and  running  on  its  west  side  to 
Gauley  River.  The  ford  on  Cranberry  Creek  was  reached  before 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  103 

three  o'clock  in  the  evening.  We  secreted  ourselves  in  the 
woods  south  of  the  road  and  east  of  the  creek  until  after  dark, 
when  we  could  travel  the  road  in  safety.  The  greater  part  of 
the  evening  was  passed  in  sleep.  On  waking  we  snatched  a 
hasty  meal,  and  made  ready  for  further  travels.  Soon  after  dark 
we  were  on  the  way.  In  due  time  we  were  wading  Cranberry 
Creek  at  the  ford,  having  first  taken  off  our  shoes  and  socks. 
We  found  the  water  very  cool,  and  a  little,  more  than  ankle 
deep.  As  soon  as  we  got  on  our  socks  and  shoes  we  set  out  on 
the  road  for  Gauley  River.  The  road  led  to  a  ferry  on  the 
Gauley,  near  the  mouth  of  Cranberry  Creek.  It  lacked  nearly 
two  hours  of  daylight  when  we  reached  the  ferry.  We  went 
up  Gauley  River  until  we  came  to  Cranberry  Creek.  We  then 
partially  stripped  ourselves  and  waded  Cranberry  Creek  to  its 
east  side.  We  found  the  water  much  deeper  and  the  current 
stronger  than  when  we  had  crossed  it  early  in  the  night. 

After  dressing  ourselves,  we  went  on  up  the  river  nearly  a 
mile  further,  and  halted  in  the  woods  to  await  the  dawn  of  day. 
We  had  not  long  to  wait.  As  soon  as  we  could  see  our  way  we 
started  on  up  the  river.  Soon  we  noticed  a  smoke  over  the  river, 
rising  through  the  woods,  and  a  few  more  steps  brought  us  to  a 
point  from  which  a  house  could  be  seen.  We  gave  two  or  three 
loud  hallooes,  and  a  man  came  out  of  the  house  and  toward  the 
river.  A  few  moments  more  and  he  was  in  his  canoe  and  half 
across  the  stream.  As  he  neared  the  shore  on  which  we  stood 
we  asked,  "Are  you  a  brother-in-law  to  Alderman?"  He  said 
he  was,  and  we  exclaimed,  "All 's  right,"  with  feelings  of  exulta- 
tion. We  were  soon  set  across,  and  the  sun  was  just  rising  when 
we  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

After  breakfast  we  went  to  the  woods  north  of  the  house 
and  hid  away  for  the  day,  March  20th.  At  noon  we  returned 
to  the  house  for  dinner.  Our  host  stood  in  the  yard  while  we 
were  eating,  to  notify  us  of  the  approach  of  any  one,  so  we  might 
slip  into  the  brush  adjoining  the  yard  and  hide.  We  were  not 
molested,  however,  and  after  making  arrangements  with  our 
host — whose  name  we  can  not  now  recall — to  furnish  us  at  our 
hiding-place  enough  food  for  two  or  three  meals,  we  left  the 


104  A   STORY  OF  THE  WAR, 

house.  Just  at  sunset,  according  to  arrangement,  we  received 
supplies.  Our  host  informed  us  that  his  house  was  forty-eight 
miles  east  of  Gauley  Bridge,  and  twelve  miles  from  Summerville, 
the  county  seat  of  Nicholas  county.  We  were  also  told  that  the 
road  leading  from  the  ferry  ran  down  Gauley  River,  through 
Summerville,  and  by  the  Twenty  Mile  House,  to  Gauley  Bridge, 
where  the  nearest  Union  pickets  were  posted.  Our  things  having 
been  put  in  readiness,  we  starte'd  out  just  at  dark  on  our  travels. 
In  a  half  hour's  time  we  were  upon  the  road,  and  making  reason- 
able progress  in  a  western  direction. 

A  little  after  midnight  we  reached  the  suburbs  of  Summer- 
ville. No  lights  were  anywhere  to  be  seen.  Every  thing  was 
still.  We  stopped  and  listened  carefully  for  a  few  moments, 
when,  hearing  nothing,  we  advanced  briskly  through  the  town  on 
the  main  road.  We  kept  a  keen  lookout  on  either  side  of  us  as 
we  passed  through  the  place.  The  town  seemed  fully  half  burnt 
down.  On  reaching  its  western  borders  we  again  halted  and 
listened,  but  all  was  quiet  as  before.  We  supposed  the  place 
might  be,  at  least,  a  harboring  place  for  scouts.  On  starting 
we  pushed  forward  rapidly,  traveling  four  miles,  if  not  more,  by 
day-break.  During  the  last  hours  of  the  night  the  weather  was 
quite  cold,  and  the  early  morning  was  frosty. 

At  daylight,  on  the  morning  of  the  21st,  the  road  was  leading 
us  through  an  open  country.  Ahead  of  us,  over  a  half  mile  dis- 
tant, were  woods,  through  which  the  road  passed.  We  intended 
halting  for  the  day  as  soon  as  we  gained  the  shelter  of  the  woods, 
and  we  pushed  on  briskly.  Just  ahead  of  us,  inside  an  inclosure 
and  beyond  a  turn  of  the  road,  were  a  few  scattering  trees. 
Among  the  trees  were  two  or  three  hay-stacks.  After  getting 
around  the  turn  of  the  road,  and  just  as  we  were  leaving  the 
stacks  in  our  rear,  we  discovered  an  aged  man  pitching  hay  to 
his  sheep.  As  he  was  staring  at  us,  we  accosted  him  with, 
"How  are  you,  old  fellow?"  The  old  gentleman  was  an  Irish- 
man, and  it  was  only  with  close  attention  we  could  understand 
what  he  said.  We  luckily  found  him  strong  in  his  attachment 
to  the  Union,  and  too  old,  as  he  said,  to  change  his  principles. 
He  evinced  much  interest  in  our  welfare,  and  readily  answered 


ESCAPE  OF   SIX   FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  105 

all  our  inquiries.  He  told  us  it  was  only  twenty-eight  and  a 
half  miles  to  Gauley  Bridge,  and  that  Captain  Ramsey's  Union 
Scouts  were  patrolling  the  country  between  that  place  and  Sum- 
merville  on  both  sides  of  Gauley  River.  He  assured  us  it  would 
be  perfectly  safe  to  travel  the  road  that  day  provided  we  did 
not  stop  short  of  the  pickets  at  night.  Rebel  citizens  would 
make  no  attempt  to  capture  us  in  day-time,  we  were  told,  but 
should  they  see  us  hiding  for  the  night  they  would  most  likely 
collect  a  party  and  take  us  prisoners.  We  decided,  after  con- 
sulting briefly,  to  push  on,  at  least  to  the  woods,  now  only  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  distant.  As  we  started  the  old  man  said,  "  Go 
on  to  the  bridge,  boys,  and  you  '11  be  safe ;  do  n't  stop  outside  the 
pickets."  We  did  not  suspect  the  old  man  of  intending  to  get 
us  into  trouble,  and  his  last  injunction  fully  established  our  faith 
in  his  Unionism. 

On  reaching  the  woods  we  stepped  aside  from  the  road  to 
consider  further  upon  the  propriety  of  going  on.  We  dreaded 
to  be  retaken  on  the  eve  of  entering  the  lines,  and  we  deter- 
mined to  avoid  such  a  calamity,  if  possible.  We  had  twenty- 
eight  miles  to  travel  before  our  safety  would  be  assured.  Since 
we  had  already  traveled  twenty  miles  without  rest  or  sleep,  the 
question  was,  Can  we  reach  the  picket-post  by  dark  ?  Our  reso- 
lution to  push  on,  and  reach  the  goal  for  which  we  had  been  so 
long  striving,  was  soon  formed.  We  immediately  started,  and 
in  little  more  than  a  half  hour's  time  we  came  to  a  house  on  our 
right.  As  it  was  near  the  road  we  went  to  it  and  asked  for 
breakfast,  thinking  we  needed  something  in  addition  to  what  we 
had  to  strengthen  us^  in  view  of  the  journey  to  be  accomplished 
that  day.  We  were  denied  breakfast  at  first,  and  had  started 
away  from  the  house.  As  we  were  passing  out  the  gate  one  of 
our  party  observed,  "That's  a  pretty  way  to  treat  prisoners 
that  'a  been  half  starved."  The  old  lady  overheard  the  remark 
and  called  us  back.  She  first  assured  herself  we  were  escaping 
prisoners,  and  then  set  before  us  what  she  had  cooked.  She 
apologized  for  refusing  at  first  to  give  us  a  breakfast,  saying  she 
thought  we  were  some  of  the  scouts  from  Gauley  Bridge,  who 
too  frequently  applied  for  meals.  We  were  informed  it  was  not 


106  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

uncommon  to  see  "blue  coats"  passing,  which  caused  us  to  feel 
less  uneasiness,  as  we  thought  we  should  not  be  molested  on  our 

,wav< 

On  finishing  our  breakfast  we  set  out  again,  having  only  five 
miles  to  travel  before  reaching  the  Twenty  Mile  House.  We 
arrived  at  the  place  by  ten  o'clock.  We  called  at  the  principal 
house  and  left  the  letter  we  had  brought  from  Greenbrier 
county.  The  lady  to  whom  it  was  addressed  happened  to  be  in 
the  house,  and  was  exceedingly  well  pleased  to  receive  it.  Many 
questions  were  asked  us  concerning  the  affairs  and  people  in 
Greenbrier  county,  but  as  our  information  was  limited  we  could 
answer  but  few  of  them.  After  learning  the  time  of  day  and 
receiving  a  biscuit  apiece,  we  went  on  our  way.  We  had 
eight  hours  or  more  in  which  to  travel  twenty/miles,  and.  wg 
pressed  on  with  exultant  hopes.  The  soles  of:  our  shoes  had 
worn  considerably,  and  were  too  thin  to  afford  adequate  protec- 
tion to  our  feet  in  walking  over  a  stony  road.  As  a  consequence 
our  feet  became  very  sore.  Smith  once  concluded  he  would  be 
obliged  to  stop,  and  more  than  once  fell  far  behind.  On  coming 
to  a  stream  of  water,  Sutherland,  Wood,  and  I,  while  waiting 
for  Smith  to  catch  up,  removed  our  shoes  and  socks  from  our 
feet  and  waded  it.  We  found  the  cold  water  improved  our  feet 
wonderfully.  Smith  soon  came  up  in  any  thing  but  a  pleasant 
mood,  and  was  much  disheartened  besides.  He  thought  we 
"  must  be  in  a  hurry,  keeping  so  far  ahead  all  the  time,"  We 
answered  we  were  in  no  hurry,  and  Wood  added,.  ".We.  had  for- 
got a  cavalry-man  could  n't  stand  marching."  We  told  Smith  to 
pull  off  his  shoes  and  socks  and  wade  the  stream.  He  complied, 
but  his  feet  were  so  very  sore  he  occupied  several  minutes  in 
crossing. 

On  getting  our  shoes  on  we  again  pushed  forward  slowly. 
At  the  first  house  we  came  to  after  fording  the  stream,  we  in- 
quired the  distance  to  Gauley  Bridge.  "Five  miles  and  a  half," 
was  the  answer  given  us.  The  sun  was  more  than  two  hours 
high,  but  now  the  journey  seemed  more  doubtful  and  difficult 
of  accomplishment  than  the  journey  of  twenty-seven  miles  had 
aeemed  in  the  morning.  We  pressed  on,,  however,  and  in  the 


ESCAPE  OF  SIX  FEDEEAL  PRISONEES.  107 

course  of  an  hour  we  met  a  man  of  whom  we  asked,  "  How  far 
is  it  to  the  pickets  ?"  "  Nearly  three  miles,"  was  the  reply. 
Our  feet  were  sore,  our  limbs  were  weary,  but  our  flagging 
spirits  revived,  and  we  persistently  urged  ourselves  onward. 
The  sun  had  almost  run  its  daily  course.  The  distance  to  be 
gone  over,  before  our  twenty-four-hour's  march  was  accomplished, 
was  gradually  growing  less.  At  length  the  picket-guard  was 
reached,  and  our  goal  won ;  but  the  sun  had  gone  down  and  the 
stars  were  appearing.  As  the  twilight  was  passing  into  night 
we  approached  the  sentinel  in  the  road  who  came  out  to  meet 
and  welcome  us.  Giving  each  of  us  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand, 
he  said,  "  I  know  where  you  are  from ;  will  you  have  some 
coffee  ?"  We  replied  that  we  could  not  object,  and  were  assured 
there  was  plenty  of  it  at  the  Company  quarters. 

Although  we  were  nearly  worn  down,  almost  exhausted,  in 
fact,  from  the  effects  of  twenty-four  hours  of  constant  wakeful- 
ness  and  travel,  we  felt  an  indescribable  but  silent  ecstasy  of  joy 
and  thankfulness  for  our  deliverance  from  the  rigorous  and 
pinching  destitution  of  Confederate  prisons.  But  in  the  height 
and  fullness  of  our  heart-felt  rapture,  we  did  not  forget  Taylor 
and  Trippe,  the  early  companions  of  our  journey.  We  thought 
it  possible  they  had  perished,  but  hoped  they  had  been  more 
fortunate  than  ourselves.  Very  soon  after  passing  the  pickets 
we  went,  in  company  with  two  or  three  soldiers  of  Companies  I 
and  H,  5th  Virginia  Infantry,  to  their  quarters  in  the  old  town 
of  Gauley  Bridge,  where  supper,  consisting  of  bread,  meat,  and 
coffee,  was  provided  us.  After  supper  we  visited  Captain  Dixon, 
of  Company  I,  5th  Virginia,  in  his  quarters,  he  having  sent 
for  us. 

Companies  I  and  H,  5th  Virginia,  under  command  of  Captain 
Dixon,  were  stationed  at  Gauley  Bridge  as  an  outpost  from 
Camp  Keynolds,  which  was  below  the  falls  of  the  Kanawha. 
We  remained  at  the  quarters  of  Captain  Dixon  during  the  night 
of  March  21st.  We  did  not  retire  for  sleep  until  a  late  hour. 
From  Dixon  we  first  heard  the  particulars  of  the  battle  of  Mis- 
sion Kidge;  in  which  our  Companies  had  participated.  We  told 
Dixon  of  the  number  and  condition  of  the  prisoners  about  Dan- 


108  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR. 

ville,  aud  of  the  strength  and  disposition  of  the  Rebel  garrison 
there. 

On  March  22d  we  went  to  Camp  Reynolds,  where  we  re- 
mained two  days,  during  which  time  we  were  furnished  by  the 
soldiers  and  their  officers  with  entire  suits  of  clean  clothing. 
In  the  evening  of  March  23d  each  of  us  wrote  a  letter  to  our 
respective  homes,  to  let  the  folks  know  we  were  alive,  and  once 
more  within  the  Union  lines.  Our  feet  having  recovered  from 
their  soreness,  we  went  next  day,  in  company  with  three  or  four 
soldiers  who  were  going  home  on  veteran  furlough,  to  Charleston, 
Virginia.  On  the  25th  we  got  aboard  a  steamer,  the  "Victress 
No.  2,"  and  went  down  the  Kauawha  to  Gallipolis,  Ohio,  arriving 
there  on  the  day  following.  On  the  28th,  having  stopped  over 
Sabbath  in  Gallipolis,  we  boarded  the  steamer  "  C.  T.  Dumont," 
and  went  down  the  river  to  Cincinnati.  At  ten  o'clock,  A.  M., 
March  29th,  we  landed  at  Cincinnati,  and  immediately  reported 
at  Post  Head- Quarters,  Colonel  Swayne,  99th  Ohio,  commanding. 

After  a  brief  talk  with  Colonel  Swayne,  and  other  officers  at 
Head-Quarters,  we  were  told  to  go  to  the  Soldiers'  Home  and 
get  our  dinners,  and  then  return.  We  started,  and  had  got  but 
a  few  steps  from  Head-Quarters  when  the  sentinel  at  the  door 
called  out  to  us  to  come  back,  that  the  Colonel  wished  to  speak 
to  us.  Sutherland,  Smith,  and  I  waited  on  the  street,  while 
Wood  went  to  see  what  the  Colonel  wanted.  Swayne  asked 
Wood  if  he  would  like  a  furlough,  and  Wood  answered  he  would. 
The  remainder  of  our  party  were  called  in  from  the  street,  and 
asked  the  same  question,  to  which  we  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive. Furloughs  were  immediately  filled  out,  signed  by  the  Post 
commander,  and  forwarded  to  Columbus,  Ohio,  to  be  approved  by 
General  Heintzleman,  the  Department  commander.  We  went  to 
the  Soldiers'  Home,  got  our  dinners,  and  by  two  o'clock  reported 
again  at  Head-Quarters,  where  we  received  orders  to  report  at 
Lytle  Barracks.  Each  of  us  was  furnished  with  a  pass  good  for 
five  days  and  nights,  giving  us  the  freedom  of  the  city. 

On  reaching  Lytle  Barracks  we  gave  Colonel  Swayne's  order 
to  the  Captain  commanding.  The  order  required  him  to  admit 
us  to  the  barracks;  to  issue  us  the  full  allowance  of  rations;  to 


ESCAPE  OP  SIX  FEDERAL  PRISONERS.  109 

issue  us  clothing,  if  we  desired  it;  and  allow  us  to  pass  in  and 
out  at  all  times  of  day  and  night  until  nine  o'clock,  P.  M.  On 
the  afternoon  of  the  29th  we  made  out  partial  descriptive  lists, 
and  drew  new  clothing,  a  full  suit  each,  the  next  morning.  On 
the  30th,  after  washing  and  dressing  ourselves,  we  went  out  into 
the  city.  On  the  morning  of  the  31st  our  furloughs  came  from 
Columbus,  approved.  With  our  furloughs  we  received  trans- 
portation papers.  Early  in 'the  day,  Wood  took  the  train  and 
was  off  for  his  home  in  Western  Pennsylvania.  Wood,  although 
a  resident  of  Pennsylvania,  had  enlisted  in  the  26th  Ohio  Volun- 
teers. Later  in  the  day,  Smith  and  Sutherland  left  together  for 
their  homes  in  Michigan.  On  being  left  alone  of  our  party,  I 
went  to  H.  H.  Hills's  drug  store,  and  remained  there  over  night 
with  a  friend,  from  whom  I  learned  for  the  first  time  of  the  sad 
losses  my  Company  had  sustained  in  battle  at  Chickamauga. 
On  April  1st  I  took  breakfast  at  the  Indiana  House,  and  very 
soon  after  was  aboard  the  cars  and  homeward  bound.  I  arrived 
home  in  Georgetown,  Illinois,  Sunday  evening,  April  3,  1864, 
and  found  my  letter  written  at  Camp  Reynolds,  Virginia,  had 
not  been  received.  My  visit  was  unexpected,  and  the  first  inti- 
mation my  father  and  folks  had  received  for  many  weeks  that  I 
was  yet  alive,  was  when  I  entered  the  old  home.  The  lettci 
came  the  next  morning,  April  4th. 


OHAPTEE  YIIL 

CONCLUSION — STRANGE     CIRCUMSTANCE — WE     BRING     GLAD     TIDINGS — ARE     HOSPITABLY 
TREATED — THE    END. 

AS  a  conclusion   to  the  foregoing  imperfect  sketches,  we  will 
briefly  narrate  an  incident  which  happened  after  our  arrival 
within  the  lines.     On  March  23d,  at  Camp  Reynolds,  while  we 
were  writing  letters  home,  a  soldier  named  Gasper  came  into  the 
quarters  where  we  were.    As  soon  as  we  were  at  leisure  he  asked, 
"Are  you  the  boys  that  came  in  from  prison  two  days  ago  ?" 
One  of  our  party  answered  we  were.     Gaaper  then  aaid  he 


110  A   STORY  OF  THE   WAR. 

had  just  been  writing  a  letter  to  an  old  friend  in  Cincinnati, 
whose  son  was  supposed  to  have  been  killed  at  Chickamauga, 
and  hearing  we  had  been  captured  in  that  battle,  he  thought  he 
would  inquire  if  we  knew  any  person  among  the  prisoners  named 
Jack  Phillips. 

"Jack  Phillips,"  repeated  Smith,  "certainly,  I  know  him." 

"Is  it  possible!"  said  Gasper. 

"  He  was  in  the  same  prison  with  me,  and  in  the  same  mess," 
said  Smith. 

"He  lived  in  Cincinnati,  did  he,  and  belonged  to  Company  — 
—  Eegiment,  Ohio  Volunteers  ?"  asked  Gasper.  (I  have  forgotten 
the  Company  and  Eegiment  to  which  Phillips  belonged.) 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Smith,  "we  are  talking  of  the  same  Jack 
Phillips."  Smith  went  on,  and  described  Phillips  as  to  size, 
height,  appearance,  and  general  characteristics. 

"  Same  fellow,"  said  Gasper,  "  but  his  captain  reports  seeing 
him  fall  in  battle." 

"No  doubt  of  that,"  said  Smith,  "I  have  heard  Jack  tell 
how  he  was  stunned  by  a  ball  grazing  his  forehead,  cutting  the 
skin,  and  leaving  a  small  scar  after  healing." 

"  The  captain  said  Jack's  forehead  was  bleeding  when  he  saw 
him  fall,"  remarked  Gasper. 

Gasper  concluded  Smith's  .former  fellow-prisoner  and  mess- 
mate was  the  son  of  John  Phillips,  of  Cincinnati,  to  whom  he 
was  just  writing,  and  said  he  would  finish  his  letter  by  giving 
the  old  man  the  information  Smith  had  furnished  concerning  his 
son.  Gasper  then  left  us,  but  returned  in  the  course  of  an  hour, 
saying  he  had  not  yet  mailed  his  letter.  He  wished  us  to  prom- 
ise to  call  on  Mr.  Phillips  if  we  passed  through  Cincinnati.  We 
told  him  we  did  not  know  that  Cincinnati  would  lie  in  our  route,, 
but  should  we  get  there,  in  our  travels,  we  would  call  on  Mr. 
Phillips  if  he  would  give  us  some  clew  as  to  where  we  might 
find  him.  Gasper  did  not  know  the  street  on  which  Mr.  Phillips 
did  business,  but  thought  it  was  somewhere  near  the  Public 
Landing.  He  had  also  forgotten  the  street  on  which  Mr. 
Phillips's  residence  was  situated.  "We,  however,  promised  Gasper 
to  inquire  for  Mr.  Phillips  if  we  visited  Cincinnati,  and  if  we 


ESCAPE   OF   SIX    FEDERAL   PRISONERS.  Ill 

happened  to  learn  either  his  residence  or  place  of  business,  to 
call  on  him  and  corroborate  the  statements  made  in  the  letter  to 
him.  On  leaving  us  Grasper  said  he  would  put  in  a  postscript, 
telling  Mr.  Phillips  of  us,  and  of  our  promise  to  inquire  for  him 
if  we  visited  Cincinnati.  Gasper  was  seen  no  more  by  us,  and 
we  gave  but  little  thought  to  the  errand  with  which  he  had 
charged  us,  as  we  had  no  idea  what  route  we  should  take  in  re- 
joining our  commands. 

It  was  the  30th  of  March,  after  we  had  dressed  ourselves 
anew,  when  Smith  came  to  me  in  Lytle  Barracks,  saying, 
"Where's  Wood  and  Sutherland?" 

"  Gone  to  the  city,"  I  answered. 

Smith  then  said,  "Suppose  we  go  into  the  city,  look  around, 
and  make  a  few  inquiries  for  the  old  man  Phillips." 

"Agreed,"  said  I;  "there  is  one  chance  in  a  thousand  that 
we  may  find  him." 

We  then  went  into  the  city,  passing  up  one  street  and  down 
another.  Wherever  sight  or  curiosity  led  us  we  went.  We  had 
wandered  over  the  city,  or  a  great  portion  of  it,  going  into  many 
shops  and  stores,  with .  scarcely  a  thought  of  Phillips;  but  at 
length  we  came  to  a  corner  from  which  the  river  and  many 
steam-boats  lying  at  the  wharves  could  be  seen.  Smith  stood 
still  until  I  came  up,  when  he  said,  "  Here  is  the  Public  Landing." 

"It  looks  much  like  it,"  I  replied. 

Smith  then  asked,  "Didn't  that  man  at  Gamp  Reynolds  say 
that  Phillips  did  business  near  the  Public  Landing?" 

"I  believe  he  did,"  said  I,  after  reflecting.  "Suppose  we 
go  in  here  and  inquire  for  him." 

We  stepped  in  at  the  first  door.  It  was  a  confectioner's  estab- 
lishment, and  there  were  several  men  in  the  room.  We  looked 
into  the  show-cases  and  at  other  objects  of  interest,  when  pres- 
ently all  left  the  room  except  one  elderly  looking  man  and  our- 
selves. Just  as  the  old  man  was  filling  the  stove  with  coal  I 
approached  him  and  asked,  "Is  there  a  person  doing  business 
anywhere  in  this  part  of  the  city  named  John  Phillips?"  As 
the  old  man  set  his  coal  bucket  down  he  said,  "My  name  is 
John  Phillips."  It  was  the  first  inquiry  we  had  made  and  would. 


112  A  STORY  OF  THE  WAB. 

have  been  the  last,  as  we  were  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  bar- 
racks for  dinner.  After  our  surprise  had  subsided  somewhat 
the  old  gentleman  wished  to  know  what*we  wanted.  We  told 
him  of  our  promise  to  a  man  at  Camp  Keynolds,  Virginia,  and 
asked  if  he  had  received  a  letter  from  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Gasper.  He  answered  that  he  had  not.  After  telling  him  we 
had  been  prisoners  of  war,  and  had  come  into  the  lines  at  Gauley 
Bridge  about  a  week  before,  Smith  went  on  to  tell  him  all  he 
knew  about  "Jack  Phillips"  as  a  prisoner  at  Danville,  Virginia. 
On  hearing  Smith's  account  of  Jack,  the  old  gentleman, 
bursting  into  tears,  said  he  had  long  since  given  his  son  up  as 
dead,  and  could  hardly  hope  or  believe  he  was  yet,  alive;  at 
least  he  should  not  tell  the  news  to  his  family,  for  fear  the  man 
we  spoke  of  might  be  another  of  the  same  name.  Smith  thought 
there  could  be  no  mistake,  as  it  would  not  be  likely  to  happen 
that  two  of  the  same  name  should  enlist  in  the  same  regiment 
from  the  same  city.  "  Strange  things  sometimes  happen  in  this 
world,"  observed  Mr.  Phillips.  The  old  gentleman  wished  us  to 
eat  some  cakes  and  pies  and  drink  some  wine,  of  which  there 
seemed  to  be  an  abundance  in  the  room.  We  consented,  as  it 
was  noon,  and  would  save  us  a  walk  to  the  barracks  for  dinner. 
Just  as  we  had. finished  eating,  a  man  entered  the  room  holding 
several  letters  in  his  hand,  two  of  which  he  handed  to  Mr.  Phil- 
lips. On  opening  the  first  letter  Mr.  Phillips  found  it  to  be  the 
one  Gasper  had  written  at  Camp  Keynolds,  Virginia.  The  coin- 
cidence caused  Mr.  Phillips  to  conclude  his  son  must  yet  be 
alive,  and  he  determined  to  acquaint  his  family  with  the  news 
he  had  received.  The  letter  coming  to  hand,  telling  about  us, 
while  we  were  present  to  answer  for  ourselves,  and  our  address- 
ing our  first,  last,  and  only  inquiry  for  Mr.  Phillips  to  Mr.  Phil- 
lips himself,  in  a  great  city,  where  there  were  thousands  of  people, 
seemed  strange,  and  forbade  the  suspicion  that  our  report  was 
untrue.  Mr.  Phillips  invited  us  to  call  on  him  each  day  during 
our  stay  in  the  city.  We  called  on  him  the  next  day,  March 
31st,  which  was  our  last  day  in  Cincinnati.  I  have  since 
learned — though  indirectly — that  "Jack"  afterward  died  as  a 
prisoner,  either  at  Danville,  Virginia,  or  Andersonville,  Georgia. 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA. 


COMPANY  "C," 
73D  REGIMENT  ILLINOIS  INFANTRY  VOLUNTEERS. 


BY  W.    H.   NEWLIN. 


ENLISTMENTS  in  the  company  dated  from  July  12,  1862,  to 
April  11,  1864.  One  hundred  and  four  names  appear  on  the 
company  roll.  All  members  who  enlisted  on  or  before  July  23, 
1862,  were  sworn  in,  the  first  time,  by  John  Newlin,  J.  P.,  in 
West's  pasture,  village  of  Georgetown,  Vermillion  County,  111. 
On  the  same  day,  July  23d,  Patterson  McNutt,  Mark  D.  Hawes, 
and  Richard  N.  Davies,  were  elected  captain,  first  and  second 
lieutenants  respectively. 

July  24th,  company  transported  in  wagons  from  Georgetown 
to  the  "  Y,"  a  point  on  the  T.  W.  &  W.  R.  R.,  near  the  site  of 
Tilton.  Taking  the  cars  at  the  "Y,"  company  reached  Camp 
Butler  early  next  morning. 

By  August  1st  company  organization  was  completed,  by  ap- 
pointment of  the  following  named  as  sergeants:  Tilmon  D. 
Kyger,  first  sergeant ;  Wm.  R.  Lawrence,  second  sergeant;  David 
A.  Smith,  third  sergeant;  Wm.  H.  Newlin,  fourth  sergeant; 
Robert  B.  Drake,  fifth  sergeant;  and  by  the  following  named  as 
corporals,  in  their  order:  David  McDonald,  John  W.  Smith, 
Carey  A.  Savage,  Wm.  M.  Sheets,  Samuel  W.  Sigler,  Wm.  O. 
Underwood,  John  V.  Don  Carlos,  William  Henderson.  Pleas- 
ant B.  Huffman,  fifer;  William  B.  Cowan,  drummer;  and 
Amacy  M.  Hasty,  teamster. 

Time,  at  Camp  Butler,  was  spent  in  drilling,  guarding  prison- 
ers, and  other  duty.  Some  pay  and  an  installment  of  bounty 
was  received  by  each  member  of  the  company.  Twenty-five 
dollars  bounty  was  paid  by  Vermillion  County  to  each  married 

8 


114  COMPANY  "C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD   REGIMENT. 

man  and  ten  dollars  to  each  unmarried  man.  To  hasten  the 
muster  in  of  regiment,  Company  C  loaned  to  Company  E — 
also  enlisted  in  Vermillion  County — fourteen  men,  all  but  three 
of  whom  were  re-transferred  to  C.  Regiment  was  mustered  into 
United  States  service  August  21,  1862. 

-  August  24th,  left  camp  Butler,  going  by  rail  via  Danville,  111., 
Lafayette  Junction,  Indiana-polis,  and  Seymour,  Ind.,  to  Louis- 
ville, Ky.  Went  into  quarters  at  Camp  Jaquess — named  for  our 
colonel — south-west  of  the  city.  At  this  camp  some  guard  duty 
was  done,  without  arms,  other  than  clubs  and  revolvers;  all  the 
clubs  and  nearly  all  the  revolvers  being  soon  discarded. 

About  August  30th  regiment  was  supplied  with  muskets — 
Austrian  or  Belgium  pattern — and  ammunition  for  same.  Mus- 
kets were  of  the  kicking  kind.  From  July  24th  company  had 
been  in  receipt  of  government  rations,  and  was  becoming  inured 
to  service  in  this  respect. 

September  1st  or  2d  moved  to  Camp  Yates,  three  or  four 
miles  south-east  of  the  city.  Other  regiments  were  at  this 
camp,  and  a  Division  was  formed,  the  Seventy-third  and  One 
Hundreth  Illinois,  and  Seventy-ninth  and  Eigthy-eighth  Indi- 
ana Regiments  making  one  brigade,  commanded  by  Colonel 
Kirk.  Lieutenant  Hawes  and  Sergeant  Lawrence  were  detailed 
for  duty  at  Kirk's  head-quarters,  and  a  very  ludricous  mistake 
was  made,  in  supposing  there  were  two  vacancies  created.  Ac- 
cordingly there  was  an  advance  along  the  line;  Davies  being 
promoted  first  lieutenant,  as  was  thought;  Orderly  Kyger  to 
second  lieutenant;  D.  A.  Smith  to  orderly,  and  Corporal  John 
W.  Smith  to  second  sergeant,  the  latter  being  promoted  over  the 
writer.  The  joke  fell  heaviest  on  Kyger,  as  he  incurred  the  ex- 
pense of  the  purchase  of  sword,  belt  and  straps.  J.  W.  Smith 
resumed  his  place  as  corporal,  much  to  the  gratification  of  the 
writer,  who  did  not  like  the  idea  of  being  "jumped." 

Before  the  middle  of  September  an  inspection  was  ordered, 
requiring  the  command  to  march  to  Louisville,  taking  all  lug- 
gage, accompanied  also  by  wagon-train.  The  number  and 
variety  of  articles  thrown  out  of  knapsacks  and  train  was  amaz- 
ing to  the  old  soldiers.  This  inspection  was  for  the  purpose- of 
reducing  luggage  and  baggage  to  articles  of  necessity.  Directly 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  115 

after  this  the  defeat  of  Union  forces  at  Richmond,  Ky.,  occurred. 
A  rapid  advance  of  a  day's  march  was  made  by  the  command  to 
assist  in  covering  the  retreat  of  those  forces.  Following  this  de- 
feat came  the  invasion  by  Kirby  Smith's  Confederate  forces, 
menacing  Cincinnati  and  Covington.  To  meet  this  emergency 
the  command  was  ordered  at  once  to  the  latter  place,  going  via 
Jeifersonville  and  Seymour,  Ind.,"  and  Cincinnati,  Ohio.  The 
marching  of  the  Seventy-third  in  the  streets  of  Cincinnati  ex- 
cited comment,  and  inquiry  was  made  if  it  was  an  old  regiment. 
There  was  a  fine  engraving  produced  about  this  time  repre- 
senting the  regiment,  inarching  in  column,  on  to  the  pontoon 
bridge. 

Fears  of  invasion  subsiding,  the  command  was  ordered  back 
to  Louisville,  returning  via  Indianapolis.  Buell's  army  having 
reached  Louisville,  a  general  reorganization  of  all  forces — old 
and  new — took  place.  The  Forty-fourth  and  Seventy-third  Illi- 
nois, and  Second  and  Fifteenth  Missouri  Regiments  formed  the 
Thirty-fifth  Brigade,  Eleventh  Division  of  reorganized  army. 

Bragg's  army,  which  had  followed  Buell's  into  Kentucky, 
was  gathering  much  strength  and  material  in  its  march  in  the 
interior,  and  on  October  1st  the  Union  army  was  put  in  motion 
and  started  in  pursuit.  A  dozen  or  more  members^of  the  com- 
pany were  left  sick  at  Louisville.  Army  caught  up  with  the 
enemy  October  8th.  Regiment  was  placed  in  and  withdrawn 
from  an  exposed  position,  just  in  the  "nick  of  time,"  a  position 
within  easy  range  of  Confederate  battery.  Being  withdrawn,  as 
above,  and  resuming  position  in  main  line,  regiment  was  actively 
engaged  in  battle  of  Perry  ville,  nearly  two  hours,  the  casualties 
to  Company  C  being  as  follows : 

Josiah  Cooper,  wounded, Died  Oct.  31,  1862. 

Samuel  Boen,  wounded, 

David  W.  Doop,  wounded, Discharged  Feb.  9,  1863. 

John  S.  Long,  wounded, Discharged  Jan.  13,  1863,  died. 

Francis  M.  Stevens,  wounded,  ....  Discharged  Dec.  5,  1862. 

Zimri  Thornton,  wounded, Died  Oct.  30,  1862. 

James  E.  Moore,  wounded, Discharged  March  17,  1863,  lost  foot 

John  Murdock,  Co.  E,  wounded,  .    .    .  Died,  Oct.  9,  1862. 

The  last  named  enlisted  in  C,  but  had  been  one  of  the  four- 
teen men  "  loaned,"  as  before  mentioned.  Several  members  of 


116  COMPANY  "C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD  REGIMENT. 

Company  C,  who  had  been  left  at  Louisville,  came  up  Oct.  9th 
and  10th. 

Followed  to  Crab  Orchard,  marching  from  there,  via  Dan- 
ville, Lebanon,  Bowling  Green,  and  Mitchellsville,  to  Nashville, 
Tenn.  At  Bowling  Green,  Rosecrans  relieved  Buell.  Arrived 
at  Nashville  Nov.  7,  1862,  encamping  first  at  Edgefield,  then 
at  Mill  Creek.  Nov.  20,  1862,  Second  Lieutenant  Richard  N. 
Davies,  resigned.  Nov.  28th,  First  Lieutenant  Mark  D.  Hawes 
resigned.  These  resignations,  the  losses  resulting  from  the  action 
at  Perry  ville,  the  loss  by  death  of  the  following  named  members  : 
Samuel  W.Blackburn,  John  C.  Sheets, Thomas  Millholland,  Israel 
H.  Morgan,  John  and  Alex.  Gerrard,  and  William  Henderson; 
and  the  following  named  discharged  for  disability :  Thos.  T. 
Ashmore,  John  Trimble,  and  Wm.  O.  Underwood,  discharged,  . 
Oct.  9,  1862,  made  a  total  loss  to  company  by  Jan.  1,  1863,  of 
eighteen  men.  Three  of  these,  viz:  David  W.  Doop,  John  S. 
Long,  and  James  E.  Moore,  were  discharged  after  Jan.  1st,  on 
Feb.  9th,  Jan.  13th,  and  March  17th,  1863,  respectively.  Nov. 
25,  1862,  Kyger  was  mustered  in  as  first  lieutenant,  and  Dec. 
6,  1862,  Lawrence  was  mustered  in  as  second  lieutenant. 

Dec.  26,  1862,  started  on  movement  to  Stone  River.  Regi- 
ment not  engaged  until  Dec.  31st,  was  then  engaged  fully  one- 
third,  and  under  fire  two-thirds  of  the  day.  Seventy-third  was 
in  Second  Brigade,  of  Sheridan's  (Third)  Division,  Twentieth 
A.  C.,  and  associated  with  the  same  regiments  as  before.  The 
change  in  number  of  Brigade  and  Division  occurred  when  Rose- 
crans assumed  command.  At  Stone  River  Company  C  suffered 
casualties  as  follows:  John  Dye  and  James  Yoho,  killed;  John 
J.  Halsted^  wounded,  discharged  Feb.  23,  1863 ;  three  or  four 
others  very  slightly  wounded,  and  Lieutenant  Lawrence  and 
Daniel  Suycott,  captured.  Lawrence  and  Suycott  were  ex- 
changed in  th'e  following  Spring,  returning  to  the  Company  in 
May.  About  Jan.  7,  1863,  a  detail  from  company,  Lieutenant 
Kyger  in  charge,  sought  the  bodies  of  Dye  and  Yoho  and  buried 
them.  The  writer  saw  both  these  men  expire;  they  were  near 
together,  and  died  at  about  the  same  time.* 

*  NOTE. — The  latter  part  of  January,  or  early  in  February,  the  company, 
in  pursuance  of  general  orders  from  Rosecrans,  chose  a  man  whose  name 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  117 

Were  in  two  different  camps  at  Murfreesboro,  first  Bradley, 
then  Shafer — named  for  our  brigade  commander  killed  at  Stone 
River. .  From  Jan.  1st  to  June  30th,  1863,  inclusive,  the  corn- 


should  be  inscribed  on  a  "  roll  of  honor."  Through  some  unaccountable 
circumstance,  or  accident,  or  perhaps  through  compromise,  the  choice  fell 
on  the  writer  hereof.  Though  conscious  of  having  tried  to  do  my  duty  at 
Stone  River,  I  knew  this  honor  was  undeserved ;  that  there  were  others 
more  entitled  to  it.  As  the  honor  was  bestowed  by  comrades  who  had 
passed  with  me  through  the  smoke  and  fire  of  that  eventful  day  I  will 
cherish  it  to  my  dying  hour  as  a  precious  legacy,  one  that  I  would  proudly 
transmit  to  my  children  if  possible.  Having  mentioned  the  foregoing,  I 
must  not  fail  to  record  another  scrap  of  history  equally  important  in  its  out- 
come, as  placing  me  under  a  weight  of  obligation  to  the  company. 

Some  time  in  May,  1863,  I  was  on  picket  duty  as  sergeant  at  outpost, 
from  which  guards  were  sent  out  every  two  hours  to  relieve  those  on  the 
line.  Guards  at  this  outpost  were  expected  to,  and  usually  did,  turn  out 
and  present  arms  to  the  officer  of  the  day,  or  other  officer,  when  he  came 
around.  On  this  particular  day  a  cold,  drizzling  rain  was  falling,  and  the 
officer  wore  a  gum  coat,  concealing  insignia  of  office,  or  special  duty.  Four 
of  the  boys  were  pitching  quoits  (horse-shoes),  as  a  means  of  diversion, 
when  the  officer  on  horseback  was  observed  in  the  distance  through 
woods.  The  quoit  pitching  ceased,  and  the  boys  made  ready  to  "  take 
arms"  and  "fall  in."  But  the  horseman  either  did  not  see,  or  pretended 
that  he  did  not  see  the  outpost,  until  he  got  well  past  a  point  in  our  front, 
then  quickly  turning,  dashed  upon  us.  As  I  was  satisfied  the  officer  was 
playing  a  "smart  Aleck"  game,  I  had  said  to  the  boys,  "nevermind;  pay 
no  attention  to  him,"  and  only  two  or  three  turned  out.  Arriving  at  the 
outpost,  reining  his  steed,  and  bowing  up  his  neck  with  a  self-satisfied  air, 
as  though  he  thought  himself  "autocrat  of  all  the  Russias,"  officer  de- 
manded, "  Where's  the  corporal  or  sergeant  in  charge  ?"  I  responded  "  Here." 
Officer  inquired  my  name,  rank,  and  regiment.  Noting  the  information  I 
gave  him,  officer  rode  away,  without  giving  his  name,  or  business,  as  re- 
quested. The  latter  I  learned  next  day  on  returning  to  camp.  An  order 
from  Sheridan  had  been  received  by  the  company  commander  to  "  reduce 
Sergeant  Wm.  H.  Newlin  to  the  ranks ;  fill  vacancy,  etc."  An  investigation 
was  had ;  those  who  had  been  on  duty  with  me  the  past  twenty-four  hours 
and  myself,  were  summoned,  and  all  the  facts  were  stated.  The  general's 
order  was  complied  with — that  had  to  be  done — and  an  election  was  ordered 
to  be  held  at  nine  o'clock  next  morning,  to  fill  vacancy  thus  created.  The 
hour  for  election  arrived,  and  as  there  was  no  candidate  against  me  I  re- 
ceived a  unanimous  vote,  and  was  elected — not  appointed — to  "  fill  vacancy." 
Division  head-quarters  was  notified,  "Order complied  with;  Wm.  H.  New- 
lin reduced,  and  vacancy  filled."  And  that  was  the  end  of  it,  except  that 
Lieutenant  Kyger  cautioned  all  the  boys  not  to  say  any  thing  about  the 
matter  in  writing  home,  adding,  "  What  if  news  of  that  should  get  back  to 
Georgetown  ?"  But  I  did  n't  care  where  the  news  went  to,  whether  to 
Georgetown  or  Damascus,  so  all  the  facts  were  given. 


118  COMPANY  "  C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD  REGIMENT. 

pany  lost  members  as  follows,  in  addition  to  the  three  already 
noted,  viz: 

John  W.  Smith, Discharged,  Jan.  3,  1863,  disability.     . 

Carey  A.  Savage, Discharged,  Feb.  6,  1863,  disability. 

John  V.  Don  Carlos,  ....  Discharged,  May  10, 1863,  disability. 

Enoch  Braselton, Discharged,  March  12,  1863,  disability. 

William  Cook, Discharged,  Jan.  28,  1863,  disability. 

Robert  W.  Cowan, Discharged,  Feb.  9,  1863,  disability. 

Lawrence  Dye, Discharged,  Jan.  28,  1863,  disability. 

Benj.  F.  Edmonds,,   ....  Discharged,  Feb.  10,  1863,  disability. 

Wright  Madden, Transferred  to  gun-boat  service,  April  16,  1863. 

Jacob  Martin, Died  at  Murfreesboro,  Feb.  21,  1863. 

William  McEntyre Died  at  Nashville,  Jan.  15,  1863. 

Thomas  Elwood  Madden,   .  Discharged,  Feb.  20,  1863,  disability. 
Joshua  T.  Nicholson, ....  Died  at  Nashville,  Jan.  18,  1863. 
Christopher  C.  Shires,  .   .    .  Discharged,  May  28,  1863,  disability. 

John  M.  Thompson Discharged,  Feb.  20,  1863,  disability. 

James  F.  Williams,   ....  Discharged,  March  26,  1863,  disability. 

George  Miley, Died  at  Nashville,  Feb.  3,  1863. 

Robert  B.  Drake, Discharged,  June  30,  1863,  disability. 

In  all,  twenty-one  men,  making  a  total  loss  to  July  1,  1863, 
of  thirty-nine  men. 

Started  June  23,  1863,  on  Chattanooga  campaign.  First  in- 
jury to  member  of  Company  was  the  wounding  of  Alex.  C. 
Nicholson,  at  Fairfield. 

Followed  on,  passing  Manchester  and  Estill  Springs,  wading 
Elk  River,  and  passing  through  Winchester  to  Cowan's  Station. 
Halted  at  latter  place,  July  3,  1863,  hearing  next  day  the  news 
of  Gettysburg  and  Vicksburg. 

A  few  days  later  passed  through  Cumberland  Tunnel,  and 
on  to  Stevenson,  Alabama.  At  Stevenson  there  was  a  delay 
until  Sept.  2d,  when  the  command  pushed  on  to  the  Tennessee 
River,  at  Bridgeport,  crossing  on  the  3d,  and  going  over  Sand 
Mountain,  and  on  down  to  Alpine,  Georgia.  When  company  left 
Stevenson  I  remained,  with  others,  in  consequence  of  chills, 
having  had  medicine  prescribed  for  breaking  same  about 
August  30th. 

Captain  Patterson  McNutt  resigned  July  29,  1863,  and  First 
Lieutenant  Tilmon  D.  Kyger  was  mustered  in  as  captain  of 
company,  Sept.  4th,  following.* 

*NOTE. — On  morning,  Sept.  3d,  we  followed  company  to  Bridgeport, 
arriving  just  as  command  was  starting  to  cross  the  river.  Being  wearied  by 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  119 

The  movement  to  Alpine,  by  Thomas'  and  McCook's  corps, 
having  forced  Bragg  out  of  Chattanooga,  next  came  the  hard 
marching  necessary  to  concentrate  the  Union  forces,  before  the 
reinforced  enemy  should  turn  and  crush  Crittenden's  corps. 


the  tramp,  James  T.  Maudlin,  Henderson  Goodwin,  William  Martin,  and 
myself  were  again  left  in  temporary  hospital.  Next  morning,  feeling  much 
refreshed,  concluded  to  apply  for  passes  to  go  on  to  company.  We  were 
disappointed,  myself  in  particular,  as  that  date,  Sept.  4,  1863,  marked  the 
end  of  my  twenty-first  year.  About  noon,  a  long  wagon  train  began  cross- 
ing the  river,  and  while  at  dinner  we  conceived  the  idea  of  getting  across, 
under  the  guise  of  train  guards.  So,  striking  the  train  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  river,  we  distributed  ourselves  at  intervals,  among  the  wagons, 
loading  our  luggage,  except  gun  and  bayonet.  The  scheme  worked ;  and  on 
getting  across,  we  repossessed  ourselves  of  our  luggage,  and  passed  ahead 
of  the  train.  We  diligently  pressed  forward  until  sunset.  We  then  located 
a  camp,  got  roasting-ears  from  a  field  to  our  right,  an  iron  pot,  and  water 
at  a  house  to  our  left,  and  in  due  time  feasted,  chatted,  and  retired  for  the 
night,  not  knowing  how  near  we  might  be  to  enemies,  or  how  far  from 
friends.  After  midnight  a  terrible  racket,  to  our  front,  awakened  and 
frightened  us.  Imagining  the  commotion  was  produced  by  a  dash  of  the 
enemy's  cavalry,  we  arose  in  great  haste,  scattered  our  fire,  gathered  our 
traps,  and  hied  us  away  to  the  brush.  The  disturbance  ceased,  our  excite- 
ment subsided,  and  we  resumed  our  former  position.  After  breakfast  next 
morning  we  started,  and  on  going  one-fourth  of  a  mile  we  came  to  a  lot,  of 
say  three  acres,  in  which  were  a  dozen  or  more  horses,  colts,  and  cows. 
Up  to  nearly  noon  at  least,  we  attributed  the  racket  to  the  stock.  Keeping 
steadily  on,  and  not  meeting  or  overtaking  any  troops  or  trains,  and  the 
road  showing  less  indications  of  any  having  passed,  we  began  to  feel  lone- 
some. Just  before  noon,  after  passing  a  house  on  our  left,  we  stopped, 
and  sent  one  of  our  squad  back  to  inquire  if  any  troops  had  passed  that 
morning.  Comrade  soon  returned  with  information  that  a  small  body  of 
cavalry  had  passed,  going  south,  about  two  hours  before.  Signs  in  the  road, 
and  on  either  side,  seemed  to  confirm  the  report,  but  as  our  scout  had 
failed  to  ascertain  the  character  of  the  cavalry,  he  was  sent  for  further 
information.  In  answer  to  question  as  to  whose,  or  what  cavalry  had 
passed,  our  man  was  told  it  was  "we'rn."  Further  inquiry  established  a 
probability  that  it  was  a  detachment  of  Roddy's  Confederate  cavalry.  For 
certain  reasons  we  did  not  go  back  past  the  house,  but  kept  straight 
ahead,  as  though  it  was  our  business  to  overtake  that  detachment.  Fifteen 
minutes  later  we  were  following  a  road  in  an  easterly  direction.  Going  at 
a  "quick"  gait,  and  being  about  to  pass  a  bunch  of  pigs,  averaging  about 
sixty  pounds  weight,  we  concluded  we  would  n't  pass  all  of  them.  It  was 
very  quickly  done,  as  we  dare  not  fire  a  gun,  or  allow  a  pig  to  squeal  much. 
The  choice  parts  of  the  pig  were  appropriated  to  our  own  special  purposes. 
After  dinner  we  pursued  our  way,  and  soon  discovered  intersecting  roads, 
and  evidences  of  the  passage  of  troops  and  trains.  Later  our  suspense  was 
ended,  and  before  dark,  of  Sept.  6th,  we  had  reached  the  company. 


120  COMPANY  "C, 

Arrived  in  vicinity  of  Chickamauga  battlefield,  late  September 
18th.  Got  nearer  next  day ;  was  under  fire,  but  not  engaged. 

Saturday  night,  September  19th,  company  furnished  a  cor- 
poral, R.  J.  Hasty,  and  two  or  three  guards  for  duty  at  Sheri- 
dan's head-quarters.  McCook,  Crittenden,  and  other  generals, 
were  at  head-quarters  in  course  of  the  night.  Sheridan  was 
restless  and  dissatisfied,  and  altogether  indications,  as  interpreted 
by  our  corporal  and  guards,  were  unfavorable  as  to  our  pros- 
pects for  to-morrow.  Bradley's  brigade  (Sheridan's  third),  had 
been  very  roughly  used  in  the  afternoon,  and  his  first  and 
second  brigades  would  probably  "  catch  it "  to-morrow.  We  were 
in  the  second  (Laibold's  brigade.)  The  night  was  dark,  the 
weather  was  cool,  and  fire  was  forbidden.  Our  position  was  in 
heavy  woods ;  the  noise  and  racket  in  our  front,  whether  made 
by  the  enemy  or  by  our  own  troops,  sounded  and  resounded 
terribly  ominous  in  our  ears.  Daybreak  came,  and  with  it  orders 
to  move ;  we  were  out  of  rations,  or  nearly  so,  and  not  allowed 
time  to  draw  a  supply.  Lytle  persisted  in  drawing  rations  for 
his  (the  first)  brigade,  notwithstanding  orders  to  move  immedi- 
ately. Moved  two  miles  or  more  to  the  left ;  took  position,  and 
awaited  further  orders. 

Before  noon  orders  came,  and  we  "  went  in."  Of  this  mem- 
orable battle  history  tells ;  it  has  been  "  fought  over,"  and 
"wrote  up,"  many  times.  As  within  an  hour  from  "going  in," 
we  had,  with  others,  surrendered,  and  passed  to  the  rear  of  five 
lines,  two  ranks  each,  of  Confederate  troops,  we  will  not  attempt 
a  description  of  the  small  part  of  the  battle  we  witnessed.  For 
the  first  time  we  viewed  the  situation  amid  and  to  rear  of  the 
enemy.  Doubt  and  uncertainty  seemed  to  have  place  among 
the  Confederates,  although  they  were  advancing.  Officers  were 
busy  gathering  up  stragglers  and  hurrying  them  forward.  Too 
many  wanted  to  guard  prisoners.  Swords  were  drawn,  and 
wildly  flourished,  and  much  ado  made,  probably  because  of  the 
presence  of  so  many  "  Yankees."  Rope  lines  and  traces,  and 
other  rope  rigging  to  artillery,  and  sorghum  stalks,  sticking  in 
haversacks  of  Bragg's  men,  attracted  our  attention.  We  saw 
Gen.  Longstreet  with  an  immense  escort  following  hirn.  We 
saw  Gen.  Hood  lying  under  the  fly  of  a  tent,  wounded;  later  he 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  121 

had  his  leg  taken  off.  After  one  o'clock  enemy's  ri§ht  fell 
back,  and  our  left  advanced.  We  saw  several  solid  shot,  skip- 
ping over  the  ground,  which  had  been  sent  by  Crittenden's  bat- 
teries. We  had  many  companions  in  our  new  and  strange  ex- 
perience, and  formed  many  new  acquaintances,  most  of  them  of 
short  duration.  Some  fourteen  hundred  of  Gen.  Sheridan's  di- 
vision, and  many  from  other  commands,  had  been  collected  in 
one  place.  Hesser  and  North,  of  Company  A,  and  Brown  and 
myself,  of  Company  C,  were  one  little  squad  of  the  Seventy-third 
that  did  not  scatter  much.  We  encountered  no  other  members 
of  our  regiment  until  reaching  Richmond. 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  given  facts,  in  the  history  of  the 
company,  of  which  we  had  personal  knowledge.  What  few  in- 
cidents or  accidents  in  its  history,  from  Chickamauga  up  to 
opening  of  Atlanta  campaign  here  given  are  vouched  for,  my 
information  touching  the  same  being  derived  from  reliable 
sources.  The  losses  sustained  by  company  in  battle  of  Chicka- 
mauga were  as  follows :  David  A.  Smith,  Enoch  Smith,  and 
Artemas  Terrell,  killed ;  Wm.  R.  Lawrence,  John  R.  Burk, 
Henderson  Goodwin,  Nathaniel  Henderson,  Henry  C.  Hender- 
son, Austin  Henderson,  Jehu  Lewis  (color  bearer),  and  John 
Bostwick  (discharged  May  27,  1864),  wounded;  and  all  the 
following  named  were  captured,  viz:  Enoch  P.  Brown,  Wm. 
H.  Newlin,  John  R.  Burk,  Wm.  F.  Ellis,  Austin  Henderson, 
and  John  Thornton.  Of  those  that  were  captured,  Burk  and 
Lewis  were  soon  exchanged,  being  seriously  wounded ;  Burk, 
however,  went  to  Richmond ;  losing  an  arm,  he  was  dis- 
charged June  9,  1864.  Lewis  was  exchanged  on  battlefield. 
Austin  Henderson  was  exchanged  late  in  1864.  John  Thorn- 
ton, Enoch  P.  Brown,  and  William  F.  Ellis,  died  in  Anderson- 
ville  prison,  in  order  named:  September  16th,  20th,  and  23d, 
1864,  respectively.  Number  of  Brown's  grave,  9,350;  Ellis', 
9,703.  Number  of  Thornton's  grave  not  given.  Wm.  H.  New- 
lin was  never  either  paroled  or  exchanged.  Nearly  every  mem- 
ber of  company  was  struck  by  balls,  or  fragments  of  shell,  or 
trees,  in  some  part  of  the  body,  accoutrements,  or  clothing.  At 
nightfall  only  three  of  the  company  were  present  at  call  of  the 
captain.  During  the  night  a  dozen  or  more  others  rallied  upon 


122  COMPANY  "  O,"  SEVENTY-THIRD   REGIMENT. 

this  feeble  remnant.  Chickamauga  was  a  dreadful  strain  upon 
the  strength  and  powers  of  endurance  of  the  soldier,  and  Sep- 
tember 20,  1863,  is,  and  will  ever  be,  a  memorable  day  in  our 
country's  history.  By  September  22d,  some  twenty  or  more  of 
the  company  had  reached  Chattanooga,  and  were  beginning  to 
assume  at  least  a  defensive  attitude.  Early  in  September 
commissions  for  Lawrence  and  Smith,  as  first  and  second 
lieutenants,  respectively,  were  sent  for,  but  neither  were  ever 
mustered  in  on  them;  Lawrence  resigning,  November  24,  1863, 
as  second  lieutenant,  and  Smith  having  met  his  fate  as  already 
noted. 

Following  Chickamauga  came  the  siege  of  Chattanooga,  and 
with  it  very  scant  supplies,  and  hard  picket  and  forage  duty. 
The  "cracker  line"  being  often  disturbed,  and  foraging  not 
yielding,  or  "panning  out"  very  heavily,  the  supply  of  rations, 
provender,  for  man  and  beast,  was  far  short  of  ordinary 
demands.  November  25th  the  battle  of  Missionary  Ridge  oc- 
curred, in  which  Company  C  fortunately  suffered  very  few  casu- 
alties, the  most  serious  one  being  the  wounding  of  Stephen  New- 
lin.  After  Missionary  Ridge  company  and  command  went  to 
the  relief  of  Burnside  at  Knoxville.  On  this  winter  campaign 
much  hard  marching  and  great  fatigue  were  endured.  Some 
one  or  two*,  or  more,  of  the  company,  not  starting  with  the  com- 
mand, followed  up  later  with  squads  and  detachments.  In  one 
or  more  instances  the  enemy's  cavalry  attempted  to  "  gobble 
up"  these  squads.  During  its  stay  in  East  Tennessee,  regiment 
encamped  for  a  time  at  Haworth's  Mill,  near  New  Market,  and 
also  at  Lenoir's  Station.  From  latter  place,  it  is  said,  some 
members  of  company  made  frequent  visits  in  the  country  east 
of  river,  and  it  is  further  alleged,  one  or  more  of  them  got 
married.  Dandridge,  I  believe,  was  the  farthest  point  eastward 
to  which  command  penetrated  in  the  Knoxville  campaign.  Capt. 
Kyger  was  very  sick  at  Knoxville,  in  course  of  winter,  and  on 
recovering  sufficiently  was  granted  leave  of  absence. 

Winter  breaking,  and  time  for  opening  of  the  Atlanta  cam- 
paign approaching,  the  regiment  returned  to  vicinity  of  Chatta- 
nooga, encamping  at  Cleveland,  at  which  point  we  rejoined  it, 
on  our  return  from  prison.  April  11,  1864,  Wm.  R.  Cook  was 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  123 

mustered  in,  as  a  recruit  to  company,  being  last  name  entered 
on  company  roll.* 

From  June  30,  1863,  to  July  1,  1864,  the  total  loss  to  com- 
pany, from  all  causes,  was  fourteen  men,  including  Amos  Bogue. 
Transferred  to  Invalid  corps,  August  1,  1863;  Clark  B.  Brant, 

*  NOTE. — Soon  after  capture  were  placed  under  a  strong  guard,  our  part- 
ners, being  Brown,  Hesser,  and  North.  Jos.  C.  Squires,  an  attachee,  before 
capture,  of  Gen.  Rosecrans'  staff,  "stood  in"  with  us  a  day  or  so,  until 
catching  sight  of  Col.  Von  Strader.  We  dropped  our  extra  ammunition  in 
Chickamauga  Creek.  Passed  Ringgold,  Sunday  evening,  about  eight  o'clock. 
Four  miles  farther  on,  halted  until  morning.  Arrived  at  Tunnell  Hill  about 
noon,  September  21st.  A  morsel  of  bacon  issued  to  each  man,  a  piece  four 
inches  long,  could  have  been  drawn  through  a  half-inch  augur  hole,  with- 
out squeezing  out  much  grease.  Boarded  railroad  train  about  three  o'clock, 
P.  M.,  and  started  on  tour  of  Confederacy.  Rode  on  top  of  car  part  of  time ; 
came  near  rolling  off.  Reached  Atlanta  night  of  September  22d.  Put  up 
at  Barracks.  Next  day  were  marched  past  a  clerk  tit  a  table ;  gave  clerk  our 
name,  company  and  regiment.  Drew  rations,  September  24th.  Started 
early ;  arrived  at  Augusta  before  night.  Bought  a  huge  watermelon ;  all  we 
could  do  to  carry  it;  cost  fifty  cents.  Were  guarded  closely  in  court-house 
enclosure.  Got  away  with  melon  by  calling  neighbors.  September  25th, 
took  an  early  train  for  Columbia.  Cars  crowded  as  usual;  excitement  sub- 
siding; novelty  of  trip  wearing  off.  Reached  Columbia  morning  of  26th. 
Were  delayed  three  hours.  Finally  got  started  northward,  the  direction  we 
wanted  to  go,  if  we  did  n't  stop  too  soon.  Rode  all  day  up  to  three  o'clock. 
Stopped  at  a  little  station  near  line  between  the  Carolinas.  Lots  of  sweet 
potatoes  on  the  platform ;  we  let  them  alone.  Many  people  were  there, 
mostly  women,  young  and  old.  An  old  lady  delivered  an  off-hand  address, 
giving  advice  to  the  "Yankees."  She  wanted  to  know  why  we  "could  n't 
let  the  South  alone.  We're  not  meddlin'  with  your  affairs.  You  all  go 
back  North  and  stay  on  your  farms,  and  in  your  factories,  and  work-shops. 
Yes,  go  back  to  your  homes  and  make  shoes  for  us."  Reached  Charlotte 
late  in  the  day.  A  few  of  the  boys  got  away,  and  trouble  and  delay  were 
occasioned  in  getting  them  to  train  again.  Next  day,  Sunday,  September 
27th,  arrived  at  Raleigh.  AVere  viewed  by  many  people,  mostly  colored, 
while  waiting.  Got  under  way  again,  traveled  all  night,  arriving  at  Weldon 
next  day.  Dismounted  from  cars ;  were  guarded  near  railroad ;  drew 
rations.  Invested  one  dollar  and  a  half  in  extras.  Boarded  train  early  on 
September  29th,  and  dismounted  no  more  until  arriving  at  Richmond.  Put 
up  at  Libby  about  eleven  o'clock  the  night  of  29th.  Paid  Dick  Turner 
twelve  dollars  next  day  under  protest.  He  said  he  would  pay  it  back  when 
we  were  paroled  or  exchanged.  Was  never  paroled  or  exchanged,  so  the 
twelve  dollars  ain't  due  yet.  Went  to  the  Rosser  (tobacco)  house  late  on 
the  30th.  We  were  guided  around  to  it.  Stayed  one  night  with  Rosser, 
then  went  to  Smith  and  Pemberton  houses,  October  1st.  On  the  way  fell 
in  with  Ellis  and  Thornton,  of  Company  C.  Stationary  for  quite  a  while; 
had  a  diversity  of  pastime,  read  Testament,  played  checkers,  fought  vermin, 


124  COMPANY  "  C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD   REGIMENT. 

discharged  November  12,  1863;  Merida  Thornton  and  Aaron 
Willison,  transferred  to  Invalid  corps,  January  loth  and  Febru- 
ary 1,  1864;  James  T.  Slaughter,  transferred  to  V.  R.  C., 
May  1,  1864 ;  Charles  W.  Cook,  permanently  detached  as  black- 
smith to  Bat.  G.,  First  Mo.  Art.,  August  26,  1863 ;  and  James 


but  never  carried  any  rations  over  from  one  day  to  next.  Kilpatrick — 
Jesse  D.,  not  James,  as  we  have  it  on  page  10 — joined  our  Seventy-third 
delegation;  his  credentials  were  from  Company  B.  Got  our  share  of  the 
sugar.  Stopped  one  night  at  Scott  House  ;  next  day,  November  14th,  took 
train  for  Danville,  Va.,  arriving  November  15th.  Our  delegation  generally 
agreed,  worked  and  voted  as  a  unit  on  all  questions.  Consisting  of  seven 
members,  we  settled  things  among  ourselves  in  committee,  before  going  to 
the  full  house.  Attention  was  occupied  a  few  days  considering  a  plan  for  a 
general  break ;  plan  never  fully  matured,  i.  e.  in  the  full  house ;  killed  in 
committee,  no  doubt.  December  loth  we  seceded,  withdrew  from  prison 
No.  2,  on  account  of  small-pox,  and  went  to  hospital.  In  time  recovered, 
and  was  variously  employed  up  to  February  19,  1864.  Formed  new 
acquaintances ;  organized  a  new  alliance ;  seceded  again,  the  night  of  date 
last  mentioned. 

In  issue  of  National  Tribune  of  November  16,  1882,  my  comrade  L.  JB. 
Smith,  criticises  my  narrative,  in  a  manner  complimentary  to  it,  however. 
He  says,  "Many  important  points  are  left  out;  all  he  has  written  is.  true, 
and  much  more."  Have  supplied  one  of  those  "important  points"  on  page 
4,  the  very  important  one  to  comrade  Smith.  I  refer  to  his  rescue,  by  Suther- 
land, from  drowning  in  Craig's  Creek-  Another  interesting,  if  not  "  im- 
portant point,"  left  out,  is  that  which  includes  the  proposal,  from  a  mulatto 
girl  of  some  fifteen  Summers,  that  we  should  leave  Smith  with  herself  and 
parents  as  a  "hostage,"  security  that  we,  after  getting  through,  would  send 
a  squad  of  cavalry  after  the  whole  family.  Other  interesting  points  were 
some  of  our  discussions  as  to  feasibility  of  things  proposed,  such  as  the 
taking  of  the  horses,  the  third  night  out ;  which  road  to  take — this,  that,  or 
the  other ;  and  the  project  of  unearthing  money  said  to  be  hid  in  a  certain 
portion  of  a  river  bank.  Another  important  and  interesting  point  in  Mr. 
Smith's  life  did  not  come  within  the  compass  of  my  narrative,  viz.:  his 
standing  guard  for  a  few  minutes  over  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis,  immediately 
after,  or  within  a  day  or  two  of  his  capture.  Mr.  Smith  became  twenty-one 
years  old  in  February,  1864,  while  on  our  trip.  The  cut — upper  left 
corner— represents  Smith  as  he  appeared  at  about  the  age  of  thirty  years. 
Another  interesting  point  was  the  management,  making  a  friend,  by 
Sutherland,  of  Huffman's  dog.  So  skillfully  did  Sutherland  get  on  the  "good 
side  "  of  the  dog  that  he  never  barked  once,  or  gave  his  owner  the  slightest 
intimation  or  warning  of  our  approach.  Comrade  Sutherland,  I  believe,  was 
connected,  in  or  about,  the  despatching  of  Maj.  Ross'  dog  in  Richmond.  Mr. 
Sutherland  is,  and  has  always  been  a  farmer  ;  is  now  fifty  years  old ;  cut — 
lower  right  corner — represents  him  as  he  appeared  probably  ten  years  ago. 
Other  interesting  points  left  out  are  those  in  the  experience  of  comrade 
Tripp,  after  his  separation  from  our  party,  March  4,  1864.  Did  not  know 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  125 

W.  Trimble,  transferred  to  V.  R.  C.,  April  10,  1864,  the  other 
seven  already  noted ;  making  a  total  loss  to  date  of  fifty-three 
men. 

Moved  from  Cleveland,  May  3,  1864,  with  command,  first 
brigade,  second  division,  fourth  army  corps.  Under  fire  first 
time,  on  Atlanta  campaign,  in  the  vicinity  of  Catoosa  Springs, 
May  5.  At  Rocky  Faced  Ridge,  May  9th,  was  again  under 
fire,  but  not  engaged.  Sharpshooters  from  the  regiment  did 
good  work  here ;  Company  C  being  represented  by  John  P. 


until  November,  1881,  that  Tripp  had  survived  these  experiences.  Visiting 
him  last  November  I  learned  the  particulars  of  his  singular  and  somewhat 
protracted  wanderings  after  we  left  him.  Want  of  space  forbids  any  thing 
like  a  record  of  them  here.  His  loneliness,  immediately  following  his  mis- 
fortune in  being  left,  must  have  been  oppressive ;  hungry  and  foodless,  the 
shades  of  night  closing  around  him  amid  those  rugged  mountains,  his  feel- 
ings can  scarcely  be  imagined.  With  reluctance  and  fear  he  called,  hoping 
his  recent  companions,  or  some  belated  pursuer,  might  hear  him  ;  but  there 
was  no  answering  voice,  nothing  but  distressing  silence,  and  his  disappoint- 
ment was  very  great.  Mr.  Tripp  is  now  fifty-seven  years  old ;  cut— lower 
left  corner— shows  him  as  he  appeared  for  some  months  after  his  discharge 
in  December,  1864.  Wood  and  Taylor  are  accounted  for  on  page  4.  In 
Wood's  case  the  information  is  direct  and  official ;  he  was  about  twenty- 
six  years  old  at  time  of  his  death.  In  Taylor's  case  the  information  is  in- 
direct and  circumstantial,  but  his  fate  is  probably  correctly  indicated  on 
page  4.  He  was  about  twenty-seven  years  old  at  time  we  left  him. 

The  engravings  herewith,  "  The  Ferry  Scene,"  and  "  Left  Alone,"  are 
reasonably  accurate  and  true  to  the  reality.  "Out  of  the  Woods"  is  in- 
tended to  represent  the  general  idea  of  escape,  our  troubles  behind,  our  per- 
severing, unremitting  efforts  ended,  and  our  safety  assured.  Though  as 
uniting,  bringing  together,  two  or  three  separate  scenes,  "  Out  of  the  Woods" 
is  also  a  faithful  picture.  Conceding  that  Taylor's  fate,  as  the  principal 
figure  in  "  Left  Alone,"  was  that,  which  all  the  information  suggests,  inde- 
scribably sad,  and  gloomy  must  have  been  his  last  hour.  Nothing  of  hope 
or  comfort  in  his  anticipations  of  the  future,  his  busy  thoughts  must  have 
drifted  away  from  his  surroundings  and  recent  events,  and  sped  across  the 
sea,  and  dwelt  upon  his  father  and  mother  there,  who  were  ignorant  of  his 
fate.  This  brings  us  to  the  events  mentioned  on  page  109.  At  Georgetown, 
while  on  furlough,  we  met  Capt.  Kyger  and  P.  B.  Huffman,  of  Company  C. 
Furlough  soon  run  out.  The  rocks  and  hills  about  Georgetown  seemed 
very  small.  Separated  from  home  and  friends  once  more,  and  started  in 
company  with  Huffman  for  the  front.  This  was  in  the  latter  part  of  April. 
Encountered  my  escaping  comrade  Sutherland  in  Indianapolis,  and  accom- 
panied him  the  greater  part  of  the  way  to  Chattanooga.  Arrived  in  camp 
at  Cleveland,  May  2, 1864,  just  at  sunset.  Had  to  talk  nearly  all  night,  and 
then  get  up  next  morning  and  start  on  the  Atlanta  campaign. 


126  COMPANY  "C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD  REGIMENT. 

Jones,  Alex.  C.  Nicholson,  and  James  T.  Maudlin.  Was  en- 
gaged at  Resaca,  May  14th.  Wm.  D.  Bales  struck  by  piece  of 
shell.  Was  engaged  at  Adairsville,  May  17th.  Up  to,  and  in- 
cluding Adairsville,  Company  C  was  in  my  charge,  there  being 
no  commissioned  officer  present.  On  this  date  Capt.  Kyger 
arrived  at  the  front  and  took  command  of  company.  At  Kings- 
ton there  was  a  delay  of  three  or  four  days.  Pursuant  to  orders, 
all  vacancies  in  line,  and  non-commissioned  officers  were  filled, 
or  selections  made  with  that  object  in  view.  May  22d,  Com- 
pany C  attended  to  this  duty.  The  company  was  entitled  to  a 
lieutenant,  and  an  election  was  held.  Candidates  were  voted 
for,  for  orderly  sergeant,  with  the  understanding  that  the  suc- 
cessful candidate  should  be  commissioned  first  lieutenant.  Elec- 
tion resulted  in  my  favor  by  a  small  majority — four  votes,  I  be- 
lieve— which,  considering  all  the  circumstances,  my  long  ab- 
sence, and  the  fact  that  my  competitor  had  been  present  all  the 
time,  was  a  No.  1  soldier,  none  better,  I  regarded  as  extremely 
flattering,  and  was  therefore  very  thankful  for  the  advancement. 
My  commission  was  sent  for;  it  bears  date  June  9,  1864. 
The  list  of  non-commissioned  officers  being  filled,  stood  as 
follows : 

WM.  M.  SHEETS,  orderly  sergeant.  AUSTIN  HENDEUSON,  third  corporal. 

JAMES  T.  MAUDLIN,  second  sergeant.  SAMUEL  HEWITT,  fourth  corporal. 

JEHU  LEWIS,  third  sergeant.  ALFKED  E.  LEWIS,  fifth  corporal. 

ROBERT  J.  HASTY,  fourth  sergeant.  GEORGE  W.  MARTIN,  sixth  corporal. 

ALEX.  C.  NICHOLSON,  fifth  sergeant.  STEPHEN  NEWLIN,  seventh  corporal. 

WESLEY  BISHOP,  first  corporal.  GEO.  HOLLINGSWORTH,  eighth  corporal. 
JONATHAN  ELLIS,  second  corporal. 

It  was  at  this  time  and  place  that  A.  E.  Lewis  notified  Ellis 
of  his  appointment  as  corporal;  adding,  "and  your  commission 
has  gone  on  to  Washington  for  approval."  All  of  the  above 
were  mustered  out  June  12,  1865.  The  list  does  not  contain  one 
of  the  original  sergeants  or  corporals ;  except  that  Orderly  Sheets 
was  one  of  the  first  corporals. 

Recommenced  active  operations  about  May  25th.  June  18th 
John  Braselton  was  wounded.  By  June  25th  the  actions  at 
Pine  and  Lost  Mountains,  Dallas,  New  Hope  Church,  and  pre- 
liminary battles  before  Kenesaw  Mountain  had  taken  place, 
without  inflicting  serious  damage  to  company.  Capt.  Kyger 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  127 

was  sick,  a  week  or  more,  up  to  and  including  June  27th,  the 
day  of  the  assault  on  Kenesaw.  This  assault  was  the  first 
heavy  battle  occurring  after  my  muster  in  as  lieutenant,  and 
owing  to  the  formation  of  each  regiment  preparatory  to  the 
assault,  and  the  absence  of  my  seniors,  I  was  placed  in  com- 
mand of  two  companies,  C  and  H,  forming  the  third  or  middle 
division  of  regiment.  Two  lines,  of  two  ranks  each,  were  in 
front  of,  and  two  lines,  of  two  ranks  each,  were  in  rear  of  com- 
panies C  and  H.  Owing  to  nature  of  ground  these  companies 
came  off  well,  suffered  less  than  any  of  the  others.  From  point 
of  starting  in,  the  ground  sloped  considerably  to  line  immedi- 
ately without,  or  in  front  of  the  very  elaborate,  systematic  ob- 
structions in  front  of  enemy's  works,  and  from  this  same  line 
the  ground  covered  by  these  obstructions  was  gradually  ascend- 
ing to  line  of  fortifications.  Pending  the  heaviest  fire  of  enemy, 
companies  C  and  H  were  on  the  lowest  ground,  all  the  other 
companies,  whether  in  front  or  rear,  being  on  higher  ground,  so 
that  fire  of  enemy  was  comparatively  harmless  to  C  and  H, 
there  being  only  four  or  five  slight  wounds  received  in  the  two 
companies,  and  these  inflicted  while  getting  back  to  position 
from  which  they  started.  Of  the  regiment,  three  were  killed, 
and  some  twelve  or  fifteen  wounded.  There  were  several  cases 
of  overheating,  the  weather  being  extremely  hot,  and  the  assault, 
from  some  cause,  not  being  made  as  early  as  intended.  The 
casualties  to  regiment,  seeming  so  few,  in  an  assault  of  such 
magnitude,  it  is  proper  to  state  that  number  of  men  in  regiment 
that  day,  present  for  duty,  did  not  exceed  three  hundred. 
In  our  front,  too,  were  very  heavy  earth-works,  feebly  manned ; 
but  for  the  arrival  of  reinforcements  we  could  have  effected,  at 
least,  a  temporary  breach  in  the  enemy's  line. 

Early  July  3d  it  was  found  that  the  enemy  had  fallen  back. 
Followed  up  immediately;  regiment  lost  one  man,  killed,  July 
4th.  There  was  a  delay  of  a  week  at  the  Chattahoochie  River. 
Command  took  position,  near  river,  above  Vining's  Station. 
July  9th  division  marched  to  Roswell ;  destroyed  some  mills  or 
factories,  and  crossed  and  recrossed  the  Chattahoochie  while 
gone,  returning  on  the  12th.  Writer  was  not  with  company  on 
Roswell  trip ;  but  owing  to  depletion  of  strength  was  favored ; 


128  COMPANY  "  C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD  REGIMENT. 

left  behind  in  charge  of  regimental  camp,  and  those  who  had 
been  excused  from  duty.  July  13th,  crossed  Chattahoochie 
River  on  pontoon  bridge.  While  crossing,  writer  was  taken 
sick,  and  was  obliged  to  drop  behind  soon  after  getting  across 
the  river.  In  attempting  to  reach  the  upland  and  overtake 
company,  was  prostrated,  the  result  of  over-heating  or  partial 
sun-stroke,  and  have  no  recollection  whatever  of  events  occur- 
ring after  the  crossing  of  the  Chattahoochie,  up  to  the  crossing 
of  Nance's  Creek,  July  18.  There  had,  however,  been  a  delay 
at  Buck's  Head,  and  also  a  general  inspection.  Late  on  the 
19th  there  were  two  or  three  severe  skirmishes  along  the  line 
of  Peach  Tree  Creek,  one  of  which  approached  the  dignity  of  a 
battle,  and  several  prisoners,  including  a  general  officer,  were 
captured  by  our  forces.  Crossed  Peach  Tree  Creek  at  ten  o'clock, 
P.  M.,  of  the  19th. 

About  noon,  on  the  20th,  brigade  was  assigned  position  in 
line,  and  hastily  built  slight  breast-works  of  logs,  limbs,  and 
rails.  This  done,  was  ordered  to  make  reconnoisance  to  front. 
In  execution  of  this  order,  the  enemy  was  found  in  force,  and 
we  came  back  at  a  double-quick,  to  find  our  temporary  works 
occupied  by  other  troops.  Took  another  position,  further  to 
right,  the  Seventy-third  holding  the  extreme  right  of  fourth 
corps.  There  was  a  gap  of  two  hundred  yards  or  more,  be- 
tween right  of  fourth  and  left  of  twentieth  corps;  so  the  right 
of  Seventy-third  was  retired,  swung  back  a  little  in  order  to 
cover  this  gap.  The  battle  immediately  opened,  giving  no  time 
for  construction  of  works,  however  slight,  and  continued  about 
an  hour,  with  two  casualties  to  Company  C — William  Martin 
and  the  writer,  wounded.  Sampson  McCool,  of  Company  E, 
was  also  wounded.  Sampson  and  William  McCool,  and  John 
Murdock,  the  latter  killed  at  Perryville,  being  the  three  loaned 
by  Company  C  to  Company  E,  that  were  never  retransferred  to 
C.  Of  regiment,  one  man  was  killed,  and  several  others 
wounded.  My  wound,  being  slight,  healed  entirely  by  August 
1st,  but  I  was  detained  at  division  field  hospital  until  August 
16th,  on  account  of  general  physical  debility,  resulting  from  the 
sunstroke  of  13th.  Command  was  not  in  the  battles  of  July 
22d  and  28th,  so  my  hospital  and  prison  experience,  covering  in 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  129 

all  eight  months,  deprived  me  of  participation  in  only  one  bat- 
tle— Missionary  Ridge — and  one  campaign — the  East  Ten- 
nessee— in  which  the  company  engaged. 

The  latter  part  of  August,  started  on  the  flanking  movement 
to  Jonesboro  and  Lovejoy  station.  September  1st,  engaged  in 
tearing  up  railroad,  burning  the  ties,  and  twisting  the  heated 
rails  around  trees.  Arrived  at  Jonesboro  too  late  to  accomplish 
more  than  the  capture  of  a  hospital  and  a  few  hundred  prison- 
ers, as  the  battle  there  was  closing.  Night  of  September  1st, 
Company  C  stood  picket  out  north-east  of  Jonesboro,  and  to- 
ward morning  the  rumble  of  Hood's  artillery  and  trains  could 
be  heard,  as  they  were  passing  hurriedly  on  a  road  still  further 
eastward,  retreating  from  Atlanta.  Later,  the  explosions  at 
Atlanta  were  distinctly  heard.  Followed  on  to  Lovejoy's. 
Were  under  fire,  but  had  no  good  opportunity  of  returning  it. 
Withdrew  from  enemy's  front  at  Lovejoy's  the  night  of  Sep- 
tember 5th  or  6th,  returning  to  Atlanta,  arriving  on  the  8th. 
Went  into  quarters  with  some  expectation  of  remaining  inactive 
for  a  longer  time  than  we  did.  Writer,  however,  saw  the  ex- 
terior of  the  barracks,  the  interior  of  which  he  had  seen,  as  a 
prisoner,  just  a  year  before. 

About  September  26th  to  28th,  were  ordered  to  Chattanooga, 
going  by  railway;  and  from  thence  marched  down  into  Alpine 
valley  again,  about  October  18th,  returning  the  latter  part  of 
October,  via  Chickamauga  battle-ground,  to  Chattanooga.  On 
this  return  march  from  Alpine,  quite  a  number  of  recruits  of 
Fifty-first  Illinois  fell  behind,  "straggled,"  and  no  wonder,  as 
most  of  them  wofe  overcoats,  and  carried  knapsacks  packed  full; 
one  of  them  carried  his  bayonet  fixed,  instead  of  in  scabbard, 
whereupon  Corporal  Lewis  (who  had  just  awakened  from  a 
short  sleep  at  roadside,  where  company  was  resting)  cried  out, 
"  Halt,  halt,  you  Fifty-firster ;  I  want  to  know  WHERE  YOU  GOT 

YOUR   GUN  SHARPENED." 

About  November  1,  1864,  went  by  rail  to  Huntsville,  Ala- 
bama, and  from  there  marched  to  Athens,  and  from  thence,  via 
Lynnville  and  Pulaski,  to  Columbia,  Tenn.  Here  a  part  of 
twenty-third  corps  met,  and  reinforced  the  fourth  corps.  Hood's 
rebel  army  was  becoming  very  troublesome  and  apparently  im- 

9 


130  COMPANY  "  C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD  REGIMENT. 

patient  for  large  results,  and  was  pressing  ours  very  closely. 
Considerable  skirmishing  took  place  about  Columbia,  in  which 
Company  C  bore  its  full  share.  Under  pressure  of  enemy  our 
forces  crossed  Duck  River  the  night  of  November  28th,  the 
Seventy-third  standing  picket  the  balance  of  that  night  on  north 
bank  of  river.  Next  morning,  the  pressure  being  great,  there 
was  no  time  to  relieve  us,  and  being  already  deployed,  we  fell 
back,  first  as  flankers,  then  as  skirmishers,  in  the  direction  of 
Spring  Hill,  arriving  there  about  four  o'clock  in  afternoon  of 
29th.  We  were  to  the  right,  or  south-east  of  Pike  and  of 
Spring  Hill.  The  part  of  the  Seventy-third  in  the  action  at 
Spring  Hill  was  to  assist  in  resisting  a  cavalry  dash  by  enemy, 
just  before  sunset.  To  do  this  we  were  only  compelled  to 
shorten  our  line  a  little,  and  deliver  a  brisk  fire  for  the  space 
of  about  ten  minutes.  Heavy  fighting  was  going  on  near  us,  in 
which  enemy's  infantry  was  engaged,  pending  which,  night  fall 
ended  the  contest,  luckily  for  our  forces.  There  was  great  con- 
fusion, one  result  of  which  was,  our  being  compelled  to  stand 
picket  all  night,  as  on  the  preceding  night.  We  must  have 
been  VERY  CLOSE  indeed  to  enemy's  pickets,  though  we  did 
not  see  or  hear  them;  but  could  distinctly  see  the  enemy  at  a 
little  distance  around  hig  camp-fires.  Our  trains  were  hustling 
the  whole  night  through,  and  got  well  on  the  way  before  morn- 
ing toward  Franklin. 

Daylight  of  November  30th  came,  and  we  were  still  on  the 
picket  line.  By  sunrise  we  began  falling  back,  deployed  as 
skirmishers,  and  skirmishing  began,  and  was  kept  up  with  more 
or  less  severity  to  within  one  mile  of  Franklin,  when  our  brig- 
ade was  relieved.  Very  soon  after  skirmishing  began  in  the 
morning  we  crossed  to  the  left  of  the  road,  and  when  but  little 
more  than  half  way  to  Franklin,  Capt.  Kyger  being  sick,  was 
unable  to  remain  longer  with  company,  and  was  taken  in 
charge  by- Surgeon  Pond,  and  we  saw  him  no  more  until  arriv- 
ing at  Nashville.  Being  relieved,  as  before  mentioned,  by  pass- 
ing within,  and  to  rear,  of  skirmish  line,  which  had  been 
thrown  out,  the  brigade,  Opedycke's  first  brigade,  second  division, 
fourth  army  corps,  formed  and  marched  in  column,  with  little 
delay,  to  Franklin,  passing  on  the  way  a  brigade  which  must 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  131 

have  been  the  third  brigade  of  our  division,  posted  some  distance 
in  front  of  a  temporary  line  of  breastworks,  which  had  been  hastily 
built,  extending  from  a  point  above  to  another  point  on  the  river 
below  the  town.  These  works,  scarcely  a  mile  in  length,  semi-cir- 
cular in  form,  and  covering,  not  only  Franklin,  but  also  the  bridge 
across  the  Harpeth,  were  filled  with  troops;  so  our  brigade  passed 
on  to  the  rear,  and  took  position  behind  Carter's  Hill.  This  was  at 
about  3:30  o'clock,  P.  M.  The  men  at  once  set  about  prepar- 
ing coffee  and  something  to  eat,  being  greatly  fatigued  from  loss 
of  sleep,  and  almost  constant  duty  since  evening  of  28th,  on 
crossing  Duck  River.  All  the  trains,  and  the  first  division  of 
the  fourth  corps,  were  north  of  the  Harpeth. 

Dinner  over  once,  we  should  probably  have  followed  and 
taken  the  advance,  having  assisted  two  days  in  covering  the  re- 
treat. But  no ;  not  all  ol  us  were  permitted  to  finish  dinner 
before  Hood  had  martialed  his  forces,  swept  up  suddenly,  driv- 
ing in  the  brigade,  posted  in  front,  as  before  stated,  in  its  wake, 
and  under  cover  of  same  crushing  in,  making  a  fearful  breach 
in  our  main  line.  Heavy  firing  began,  clouds  of  dust  and  smoke 
arose,  hundreds  of  rebel  troops  were  thrust  into  the  breach 
which  they  had  made,  and  beyond;  singly,  and  in  squads,  small 
and  great,  our  men  began  flying  from  the  front,  throwing  away 
their  guns;  pieces  of  artillery  and  cassions,  with  horses  attached, 
came  thundering  down;  confusion  and  consternation  indescrib- 
able had  been  wrought  in  five  minutes  or  less  time. 

The  Thirty-sixth,  Forty-fourth,  and  Seventy-third  Illinois, 
and  Twenty-fourth  Wisconsin,  and  One  Hundred  and  Twenty- 
fifth  Ohio,  five  regiments,  composing  Opedycke's  brigade,  were 
instantly  on  their  feet,  anticipating  orders,  seizing  their  guns, 
which  had  been  stacked  on  one  line,  made  a  simultaneous,  irre- 
sistible rush  to  the  front,  carrying  every  thing  before  them  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet,  capturing  thirteen  battle-flags,  nearly 
one  thousand  prisoners,  and  restoring  and  strengthening  our 
line,  so  that  it  was  broken  no  more.  Stung  to  desperation  at 
this  sudden  turning  of  the  scales  in  this  important  battle,  the  in- 
furiated enemy  charged,  and  CHARGED  again  and  AGAIN,  carry- 
ing his  reckless  resistance  right  up  to,  yes  on  to,  our  slight 
works,  to  the  very  muzzles  of  our  guns.  But  we  were  there  to 


132  COMPANY  "  C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD   REGIMENT. 

stay,  at  least  until  getting  ready  to  leave  of  our  own  accord; 
but  it  took  work,  HARD  AVORK,  PERSISTENT,  UNFLAGGING  and 
UNFLINCHING  WORK,  to  maintain  our  position.  How  it  was 
done  I  can  scarcely  hope  to  describe. 

On  arriving  at  the  point  from  whence  our  forces  had  been 
driven,  there  were  too  many  troops  to  operate  to  advantage, 
and  afford  all  a  semblance  of  protection.  Fortunately,  the 
ground,  beginning  at  the  works,  was  gradually  declining  to  the 
rear.  Company  C,  with  a  few  soldiers  of  other  companies,  was 
posted  between,  and  to  the  front  of,  two  pieces  of  artillery.  All 
were  either  lying  on  the  ground  or  in  a  low,  stooping  posture. 
Immediately  at  the  works  was  a  strong  line  of  men,  with  barely 
elbow  room,  who  did  nothing  but  fire;  in  rear  of  this  line  were 
two  or  three  tiers  of  men,  who  were  busy  loading  pieces  and 
passing  them  forward;  to  rear  of  these  were  still  others,  who 
were  cleaning  guns,  breaking  open  boxes  of  ammunition,  and 
distributing  cartridges  to  the  loaders ;  others  still  further  back, 
carried  up  the  boxes  of  ammunition  from  a  point  where  left  by 
ammunition  wagons.  There  was  work  for  all,  and  all  WORKED. 
There  was  a  full  half  hour  of  desperate  fighting,  perhaps  equalled 
at  some  time  and  place,  but  scarcely  ever,  if  ever,  surpassed. 
For  several  fearful  minutes,  as  a  result  of  combined,  sturdy, 
heroic  effort  on  the  part  of  all,  from  end  to  end  of  our  line,  the 
small  arms  volleyed;  there  Avas  no  determining  of  intervals  be- 
tAveen  volleys;  it  Avas  as  one.  The  cannon  thundered;  the  shell 
shrieked;  the  smoke  rolled;  the  earth  trembled;  the  heroic, 
reckless,  desperate,  enemy  surged,  and  surged  again  and  AGAIN, 
right  up  to  our  line,  and  recoiled  as  often,  recoiling  last,  before 
the  merciless  tempest  of  death. 

Darkness  came  on,  and  shrouded  the  scene;  there  Avas  a  lull  in 
the  fight;  a  great  calm  after  a  great  storm.  Many  of  our  soldiers 
had  been  slain,  but  for  each  one,  from  three  to  five  of  the  rebels 
had  bitten  the  dust.  Very  many  on  both  sides  Avere  wounded,  the 
few  mortally,  the  many  slightly.  Did  those  who  had  not  finished 
dinner,  now  finish  it?  No.  Was  supper  prepared ?  No.  Was 
there  time  for  coffee?  Not  much.  The  foe,  threatening  and  de- 
fiant, Avas  right  there,  within  sixty  feet,  waiting  to  pounce  upon 
us.  Guns  were  put  in  order,  ammunition  in  abundance  Avas  got 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  133 

ready  at  hand,  and  all  precautions  taken.  Nor  had  we  long  to 
wait  until  the  first  night  assault  was  made ;  right  up  to  our 
works  they  charged,  coming  within  space  measured  by  the 
flashes  from  our  rifles.  But  before  our  galling  fire  the  enemy 
quailed  and  fell  back.  Our  fire  slackened  some ;  but  within  an 
hour  two  or  more  assaults  were  made,  with  like  result. 

After  the  last  assault  we  kept  up  a  heavy  fire  for  some  min- 
utes, until  some  person,  some  officer  perhaps,  between  the  lines, 
but  nearest  ours,  yelled  out :  "  Cease  firing,  cease  firing ;"  re- 
peating the  command  several  times.  Amid  the  smoke  and 
darkness  it  could  not  be  told  who  or  what  he  was,  whether 
Union  or  rebel.  In  a  few  minutes  the  firing  did,  in  a  great 
measure,  cease ;  later  it  ceased  almost  entirely.  At  same  time  a 
burning  building  in  the  suburbs  of  Franklin  fell  in,  making  a 
great  light,  by  which  we  saw  several,  as  many  as  a  dozen,  stand- 
ards raise  along  enemy's  line.  He  was  preparing,  no  doubt,  for 
a  last  desperate  effort  to  break  our  front.  Brisk  firing  immedi- 
ately opened  from  our  side,  increasing  in  volume  and  ceasing 
not  until  every  battle-flag  on  enemy's  front  was  laid  low.  This 
ended  the  contest;  quiet  succeeded;  and  by  midnight  our  weary 
forces  had  withdrawn  from  the  field ;  crossed  the  Harpeth,  and 
were  slowly  wending  their  way  to  Nashville. 

The  loss  to  Seventy-third,  in  this  battle,  was  nine  killed  and 
two  wounded  that  died  soon  afterward;  one  of  the  former  being 
Adjt.  Wilmer,  and  one  of  the  latter  being  Major  Motherspaw ;  the 
loss  to  Company  C  being  one  killed}  Zeiias  Fulton,  and  one 
wounded,  Joseph  A.  Allison,  who  died  in  enemy's  hands.  There 
were  three  or  four  others  of  company  wounded,  including  the 
writer;  and  there  were  several  others  of  the  regiment  wounded; 
but  nearly  all  of  these  were  slight  wounds,  excepting  that  of 
Captain  Jonas  Jones,  and  one  or  two  others.  Some  two  or 
three  years  ago  writer  saw  a  statement  from  Gen.  D.  S.  Stanley, 
who  commanded  the  fourth  corps,  until  wounded,  in  this  battle; 
which  statement,  published  in  a  Philadelphia  paper,  asserted 
that  the  fourth  corps  used  ninety  wagon  loads  of  ammunition 
the  afternoon  and  night  of  November  30,  1864.  It  is  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  much  of  this  ammunition  was  destroyed ;  wasted 
in  other  ways  than  in  "wild  firing,"  the  enemy's  losses,  all 


134  COMPANY  "C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD   REGIMENT. 

told,  being  about  five  thousand  five  hundred,  or  three  times 
our  own. 

Col.  Opedycke  was  breveted  brigadier-general,  and  merited 
praise  was  bestowed  in  congratulatory  orders,  for  the  part  borne 
by  his  brigade  in  the  battle  of  Franklin.  Any  other  brigade 
that  was  there  would  probably  have  done  as  well,  under  the 
same  circumstances;  but  as  three-fifths  of  the  brigade  were  Illi- 
noisians  we  take  a  pardonable  pride  in  making  this  imperfect 
record  of  its  most  conspicuous  achievement. 

Arrived  at  Nashville  at  one  o'clock,  P.  M.,  December  1, 
1864.  We  were  a  very  tired,  sorely-taxed,  and  dirty  lot  of  sol- 
diers. Sleep  was  imperatively  demanded ;  and  most  of  us,  as 
soon  as  halted,  or  assigned  camping  space,  dropped  on  the 
ground  and  slept  until  sunset;  by  which  time  Capt.  Kyger  had 
found  us,  and  was  anxiously  ascertaining  how  we  had  fared. 
Hood  followed  up  immediately,  taking  position  in  our  front ; 
and  on  December  3d,  James  Ashmore,  of  Company  C,  a  faithful 
soldier,  was  shot  dead  while  standing  picket.  His  body  was 
buried  in  the  cemetery  at  Nashville.  This  was  the  last  loss 
which  befell  Company  C,  except  in  case  of  two  or  three  mem- 
bers who  were  mustered  out  a  few  days  in  advance  of  the  regi- 
ment at  hospitals,  and  one  recruit — Wm.  R.  Cook — transferred 
to  the  Forty-fourth  Illinois.  About  this  time  we  received  noti- 
fication of  the  death  of  three  members  of  the  company  in  Ander- 
sonville  prison,  as  before  noted,  viz.:  Brown,  Ellis,  and  Thorn- 
ton, with  whom  the  writer  had  spent  three  months  as  a  prisoner. 
How  fortunate  had  we  been,  not  only  in  escaping  prison,  but  in 
passing  comparatively  unharmed  through  twelve  battles,  since 
separating  from  prison  comrades,  and  standing  now  upon  the 
threshold  of  the  thirteenth,  destined  to  pass  safely  through  that. 
Fortunate  indeed  we  were,  and  thankful,  very  thankful  we  are, 
and  ought  to  be. 

On  December  15th  and  16th,  1864,  occurred  the  battles  of 
Nashville,  in  which  command  performed  the  part  assigned  it 
both  days;  in  the  afternoon  of  the  16th  joining  in  the  grand, 
majestic  charge,  which  was  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  rebellion 
in  the  west.  Casualties  to  Company  C,  none  to  speak  of,  and 
to  regiment  very  few,  only  one  man  killed,  and  probably  a 


HISTORICAL  MEMORANDA.  135 

dozen  wounded.  Enemy  hugged  his  works  so  closely  that  his 
fire  passed  above  our  heads.  On  our  reaching  the  works,  those 
of  the  enemy  who  did  not  surrender  fled  with  precipitated 
haste.  With  utmost  enthusiasm  our  troops  pursued  the  flying 
enemy,  until  darkness  closed  the  race.  Started  early  on  the 
17th,  but  our  cavalry  took  the  job  off  our  hands,  pursuing 
Hood  so  closely  that  he  crossed  the  Tennessee  River,  with  only 
a  few  shattered  and  broken  fragments  of  his  late  offensive 
army.  We  followed  to  Pulaski,  Tenn.,  at  which  point,  a  day  or 
two  before  Christmas,  we  heard,  for  the  last  time,  the  whiz  of 
an  enemy's  bullet. 

Leaving  Pulaski  we  took  up  our  line  of  march  for  Hunts- 
ville,  Ala.,  arriving  January  5,  1865.  Here  we  remained  until 
March  28th ;  then  going  by  rail  to  Blue  Springs,  East  Tennessee. 
While  at  Blue  Springs  the  war  closed;  Lee  and  Johnston  sur- 
rendered, and  Abraham  Lincoln  was  assassinated.  News  of  the 
latter  produced  the  wildest  frenzy  among  our  troops.  The  latter 
part  of  April  were  ordered  to  Nashville.  Going  by  rail,  we 
arrived  in  due  course.  Hostilities  having  ceased,  the  excite- 
ment incident  thereto  having  subsided,  we  led  a  quiet  camp  life 
up  to  middle  of  June.  The  regiment  was  mustered  out  June 
12,  1865,  starting  a  day  or  two  later  for  Springfield,  111.,  to  re- 
ceive final  payment  and  to  disband. 

We  give  name  of  each  member  of  Company  C  that  was 
present  for  muster  out  June  12th,  except  where  already  noted; 
see  list  of  sergeants  and  corporals  and  remarks  below  on  page 
126,  which  with  the  fifty -three  men  dropped  from  the  roll  by 
July  1,  1864,  and  the  following  dropped  since,  or  mustered  out 
in  advance  of  the  regiment,  make  the  one  hundred  and  four 
men,  with  which  company  entered  the  service:  N.  Brady  and 
I.  W.  Ward,  transferred  to  United  States  engineer  corps,  July 
20th  and"  August  21st,  1864;  E.  P.  Brown,  Wm.  F.  Ellis,  and 
John  Thornton,  died  at  Andersonville ;  James  A.  Allison  and 
Zenas  Fulton,  killed  at  Franklin ;  James  Ashmore,  killed  at 
Nashville;  Nathaniel  Henderson,  mustered  out  May  4th;  Will- 
iam B.  Cowan,  May  17th,  John  Braselton,  June  2d,  and  Daniel 
Suycott,  June  8,  1865;  Samuel  W.  Sigler,  transferred  to  Vet- 
eran Reserve  Corps,  January  10,- 1865,  and  William  R.  Cook, 


136 


COMPANY  "  C,"  SEVENTY-THIRD  REGIMENT. 


transferred  to   Forty-fourth   Illinois,   June    12,  1865,  fourteen 
in  all. 


TILMON  D.  KYGER,  deceased. 
WILLIAM  H.  NEWLIN. 
DAVID  MC-DONALD. 
PLKASANT  B.  HUFFMAN, 
SAMUEL  J.  BOEN. 
DAVID  BRANSON,*  deceased. 
WILLIAM  D.  BALES. 
JOHN  DOOP. 
HENDERSON  GOODWIN. 
AMACY  M.  HASTY. 
HENBY  C.  HENDERSON. 
GEOBGB  J.  HARRIER. 
In  all, 


JOHN  P.  JONES. 
THOMAS  JUDD. 
ABRAHAM  JOXES. 
CLAIBORNE  MADDEN. 
WILLIAM  MARTIN. 
JAMES  S.  PECK,  deceased. 
HARLAND  H.  REAGON. 
JOSEPH  W.  REAGON. 
WALTER  SCOTT. 
ISAAC  H.  THOMPSON.* 
BENJAMIN  PURDUM. 
ISAAC  R.  THORNTON. 


24 

Add  five  sergeants  and  eight  corporals, 13 

Previously  dropped  from  all  causes  as  indicated, 67 


Total, 

DANVILLE,  ILL.,  September  4,  1886. 


104 


I0n  detached  service  in  rear,  full  term. 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGI*,ES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


AUG  1  9 195? 
f&N  *  6  1964' 


£    OCT1 

RENEWAL 
ID  URL 


MOV 

NON-REflte 


SEP  2  11990 

lU/c 
DUE  2  WKS  FROMlATE 


$.  DEC141' 

DEC  1  5 


• 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


THE 

IX). 


3  1158005347900 


